


His Corrupted Mind

by FateMagician



Series: His Corrupted Series [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Extentively planned outline, F/M, Fantasy, First Part of a three part story, Half-Elven, Interesting Original Female Character, Lord of the Rings, Numeoreans, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Orome - Freeform, Romance, Some Book Elements, Super-detailed timeline, This part follows the movie a bit, Valar - Freeform, Witch-King redemption arc, follows implied movie timeline, movie-verse, slow-burn, vague magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateMagician/pseuds/FateMagician
Summary: |Quotev Triple Awards 2016 Category Winner: BEST FANTASY FAN-FICTION|Inconnu Naeril, a young woman of half-elven blood and the legendary Huntress of the North, is tasked with a singular purpose when the threat of Sauron strengthens. A task that has been hers since before her birth, and since the fall of Arnor.There was a second part to Glorfindel's prophecy, a chance to not only destroy the Witch-King of Angmar but also to save him.|PART 1/3|[Witch-King x OC][Originally posted on FanFiction.net]





	1. The Prophecy of Glorfindel

_"Beginnings are always messy." -John Glasworthy_

* * *

 

_**Second Age, 1975** _

Glorfindel, the great hero of older days, watched on his mounted position as the combined might of men from Gondor and the remaining Dûnedain of Arnor led by Eärnur son of Eärnil, and the elves of Lindon, Rivendell, and Loríen led by himself and Lord Elrond of Rivendell, destroy the hosts of Angmar. He only wished that they had taken action sooner, so that Arthedain might have remained standing in the aftermath of the Witch-King's conquest of Arnor.

However, the people of Arnor were never going to wake from the nightmare they had suffered through, the scars cutting deep into the earth and into their minds. The once great land of Arnor was in ruins, and all because men could not set aside petty troubles and unite as a single people. Their divide was their ultimate weakness here and the Witch-King had exploited it with great pleasure, laying waste wherever he went.

The cries of battle were fading away now, the battle nearly finished, and so far there had been no sign of the Witch-King himself. This alliance had routed him from his place within the defeated capital of Arthedain, the fortress of Fornost, and as he tried to flee north to hide within his own realm and within the walls of Carn Dûm, the great horsemen of Gondor overtook him. Not long after, himself and Elrond came up from Rivendell, trapping the Witch-King on the plain between the North Downs and Nunuial. No man or orc of Angmar would remain west of the Misty Mountains.

"Never again will evil lay claim to Arnor!" came a cry from Eärnur, and Glorfindel looked towards the Captain of Gondor, seeing the fisted hand raised high. His shout was met by the cheers of both men and elves, many weapons and fists raised in reciprocation. Glorfindel smiled faintly, but not fully able to join the revelry as a foreboding sense still plagued the edge of his mind. _Where is the Witch-King?_ The answer to that question came sooner than he would have hoped.

A piercing screech cut through the battlefield, sharper than any fine elven blade of the First Age. All eyes on the plains looked to the source of such a fear-striking scream, and there upon one of the hills only a short distance away was a tall rider, wearing robes and a mask of black, his steed just as dark in color. Fear immediately filled the hearts of the armies of men and elves, for the Witch-King held such a presence upon the battlefield. Quicker than most would notice, the Witch-King set his black horse charging down the hill, his path soon clear. The Witch-King of Angmar rode to strike down Eärnur.

The Captain of Gondor prepared himself to stand against the Witch-King, but his bay mount, a fairly skittish creature, could not stand against the oppression and fled from the oncoming charge. Eärnur was then left to try to regain control of his horse. The Witch-King then ceased his charge, his black mount dancing from side to side, and he released a laugh that seemed to be no different from his earlier scream. _This shall be a sound none shall ever forget for the rest of their days,_ thought Glorfindel before a faint shudder ran through his body. He then looked more closely at the Witch-King, and caught the faint flicker of something _other_. Something alive, yet dead.

 _Nazg_ _û_ _l!_ His mind shouted, and with little forethought withdrew his blade and made to ride to the Witch-King. Luckily for the hero of old, the Witch-King caught wind of Glorfindel's intenions and turned his dark steed away, retreating into the shadows. Glorfindel paused and looked to the west. Night was growing, and so the Witch-King of Angmar was lost to them. Eärnur returned now, anger and frustration plain on his features. When the man went to chase after the Lord of the Nazgûl, Glorfindel barred the way and said, "Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall."

He and the Captain of Gondor met gazes for long moments before the latter turned his horse away, anger still present in his eyes. Glorfindel gave a soft, tired sigh before looking back to where the Witch-King had vanished. Under his breath, a soft utterance of words said the rest of what he had recently predicted. Words that went unheard.

"Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy."


	2. A Stranger Is Born

" _Fate determines many things, no matter how we struggle." -Otto Weininger_

* * *

 

**_Second Age, 2002_ **

Minas Ithil, nestled in the Mountains of Shadow that made the natural border of Mordor, was an essential defense for Gondor. It would be the men of Minas Ithil that would be the first to defend the great kingdom should any attack come from seemingly dormant shadows that lied in Mordor. Yet time had made the people of Minas Ithil lax and they were not able to hold their own for long against the might of the Nazgûl.

It was now the second year of the siege upon Minas Ithil and its defenders were weary and hungry. They had been cut off from Gondor, and all messengers who had rode forth to call for aid and been silenced by agents of the Witch-King. No help was to come to the weakened fortress and soon its mighty gate was to fall before the host of orcs. The vicious creatures were snarling and growling, many unable to keep still and jumped around, eager to cut fragile flesh and taste the blood of men.

The Witch-King, mounted upon his black horse, watched on as the massive log once again rammed into the gate of Minas Ithil. It buckled, it supports now beginning to fail. The other Ringwraiths' mounts shied a little, but the harsh control of their riders prevented them from doing any more than that. His own steed was still though, a statue until directed otherwise by the Witch-King. The gate again was rammed and this time the buckling was more prominent. Soon, Minas Ithil would fall to the might of the Witch-King.

_**Osgiliath** _

A woman of dark hair and fair skin screamed and gripped the sheets underneath her. She took in heavy breaths afterwards, the act having taken much of her energy. It had been a long ten hours of labor, and the midwife sympathized with the woman. This birth has been particularly difficult, and even she wasn't sure what would happen to either the new mother or the child. She gripped the woman's hand when another contraction came around, the woman groaning and gripping the midwife's hand like an iron clasp.

"All right, when it comes again, push." The midwife said in soothing tones in the new mother's ear. The response was a quick nod, and at that the midwife gestured with her free hand for her young assistant, a young girl who had not yet reached her sixteenth year. The girl took the woman's hand, freeing the midwife to prepare for the newborn's arrival.

The contractions hit again.

_**Minas Ithil** _

The gate of Minas Ithil had fallen, and the host of Mordor orcs swarmed into fortress. Death and destruction were, of course, what followed next. Only minutes later did the Nine ride into the fray, their screams stopping the men of Minas Ithil and forcing them to clutch their ears in pain, making them more vulnerable than they already were. The Witch-King veered his steed to a new direction, the others doing the same, and drew his longsword from his side.

The blade drew much blood, striking down many a man of Minas Ithil and any unfortunate orc that was in his way. A guard, a simple soldier had managed to return to himself after the fear had surged within him of the Nazgûl. The foolish man then charged at the approaching Witch-King, but had no chance of surviving the encounter. It was quick, a mercy really, as the Witch-King's blade pierced the heart of the man before moving on. He rode deeper into the fortress, seeking out the lord and master of Minas Ithil.

_**Osgiliath** _

The midwife smiled as she wrapped up the newborn in a clean cloth, and on the inside sighed with relief. Not only had the labor been difficult, but the birthing as well. She inspected the child again, checking for any signs of trouble that would become a problem later in life. Despite the child's small size and skinny frame, there were no obvious issues. Turning to the new mother she said in a cheerful tone, "You have a daughter."

The woman smiled faintly back, fatigue clear on her fine features. "Can I hold her?" She asked, and the midwife handed the child over with care. With a look to her assistant, both left the room to give the new mother some time alone with her newborn daughter. After some moments, the new mother's smile faded a little, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She then caressed the wispy white hair on her daughter's head, and the newborn squirmed and yawned. The child did not open her eyes however, and seemingly went back to sleep. More moments passed before the new mother choked back a faint sob and said in a hoarse whisper, "I am sorry my little girl, that is you to be born to such a fate. Forever bound to a creature such as him. I only hope that you will one day forgive me, my sweet, sweet daughter."

The midwife entered the room again and the new mother looked up, slightly startled. Again, the midwife had a cheerful smile. "Quiet little thing, isn't she? I'll tell you, that one won't be giving you any trouble. I almost envy you." The new mother smiled, her previous thoughts and concerns over the fate of her newborn daughter nowhere to be seen.

_**Minas Ithil** _

It had not been difficult for the Witch-King to find his prey, in fact his prey had decided to come out from the safety of the inner walls and challenge the hunter. A mistake the Lord of Minas Ithil would pay dearly for.

The Witch-King dismounted from his dark horse, his gauntleted hand still holding his longsword. His prey was at the ready, and the Lord of Minas Ithil ran at him. A strike and parry, and after that first contact the Lord of Minas Ithil knew that he was outmatched. However, that did not deter him from defending his home, to give whatever survivors there were to escape to the safety of Osgiliath. He took the initiative again and from there a duel of swords commenced, man against wraith.

The man then slashed at the Nazgûl before him, aiming to take its head, but the Witch-King simply held his sword up and successfully blocked it. The Witch-King held it steady, unwavering as the Lord of Minas Ithil applied more force to try and force the wraith back. That was not to be though, as then the Witch-King, with a flick of his wrist, moved the man's blade aside with ease and in the same movement withdrew a dagger and stabbed it into the heart of the Lord of Minas Ithil.

The man looked down at the blade in his chest, then into the darkness that was perceived in the hood of the Nazgûl in front of him. Blood then trickled from the corners of his mouth before his body slid off the dagger and onto the ground. The Witch-King then released a scream, the screeching sound alerting all within the fortress that Minas Ithil now belonged to the Witch-King, the Black Captain of Sauron.

It was met not only by the cries of the other Nazgûl, but also with the bellows, growls and snarls of the Mordor orcs. Satisfied, the Witch-King made to move out of the room but an unseen force gripped and held him still. Anger quickly overtaking surprise, he tried to move but was unable to despite all his struggle against the invisible bonds. Then something changed, something he couldn't name. He looked to the west, seeing in the distance the city of Osgiliath. Something was there, something that called to him.

The spell then broke when the other Nazgûl rode in, gathering to him and then the Witch-King swiftly mounted his own steed and rode out from the inner walls Minas Ithil. Now they held to purpose of ridding Minas Ithil of men, completely and without mercy.


	3. A Fateful Encounter

_"Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant." -Nadia Scrieva_

* * *

 

_**Second Age, 3017** _

A rider approached Osgiliath, someone the city had not seen in many centuries. The rider was astride a horse that seemed to be a cross between a draft and a light warhorse, and the closer the rider came the horse could be seen as colored a steel-grey. Its rider, much smaller in comparison, became clearer as well. A woman of wild white hair, fine of features, and dressed in the furs of the north. Upon her back was a rough-hewn bow, its condition showing its use and care, at her hip a long whip, its tip barbed and finally a blade of northern make, also secured at her waist. Once the odd rider passed through the entrance to the city she smiled.

Inconnu Naeril was home once again, if only for the day.

As she rode through the city, making her way to a specific place, Inconnu casually observed it all. She noted the old things, the new things, the men, the women, the children and all the interactions. Though its people dressed differently, people coming and leaving, the new replacing the old, Osgiliath had not changed much. This was something that Inconnu found some comfort in. It was a thing that was a rarity in the recent century. However, there was one thing Inconnu noticed a she rode through the streets. Fear was more present than it had been the last time she was here.

Minas Morgul, formerly Minas Ithil, was the source of that fear. Ever since the fortress had been taken over by the Witch-King, the eldest of the Nazgûl, darkness had since become stronger and rumors came of terrible dark magic within its walls. Without a doubt, Minas Morgul has also been a source of tragedy for King Eärnur I of Gondor had met his end there. Death had come to him through the treachery and power of the Witch-King, revenge for his defeat at Angmar.

Inconnu's smile turned more sorrowful. The fear was oppressive not only here, but in other cities and kingdoms as well. A half-hearted façade of happiness was what she had been witnessing for a while now, especially in the places closest to the darkness of Mordor. But that did not mean that there was no hope left in Middle Earth, for kingdoms such as Erebor and Dale have rebuilt and begun to thrive again after the fall of Smaug, the last true dragon of Middle Earth. A more cheerful smile, though faint, returned to Inconnu's features.

Soon, Inconnu arrived at her intended destination. She dismounted from Sverundr, patting the stallion affectionately before walking into the graveyard before her. It was time to visit her mother.

_**Minas Morgul** _

The Witch-King rode between the ranks of orcs, his hidden gaze moving between them in harsh inspection. They were a new orc tribe come from Mordor and his master had commanded him to use them to take the city of Osgiliath. Like any seasoned commander working with fresh troops, the Witch-King had reasonable doubts about this new orc tribe, but kept them silent. He would not go against his master's will.

Despite their lack of experience in true warfare, the orcs were certainly well experienced in carnage and in this coming battle that should be more than enough to capture and utterly destroy Osgiliath. In this victory, Gondor would lose a strategical advantage and become weak from attack from both Mordor and, in a few months' time, from the Corsair ships that would come up the Pelargir.

Once the Witch-King was satisfied with what he saw, he whirled his dark horse to face the west and gave the order to march.

_**Osgiliath** _

Inconnu was on one knee before her mother's grave, the headstone showing its weathered age. However it had been well-kept and so it looked not as worn-down as many of the others. Then, she began the ritual she began long ago, something to make up for all the centuries between visits: she began to talk to her mother as if she was actually there.

"I've come home again mother. I know, it's been a very long time since my last visit, but at least I'm here now." Inconnu laughed faintly at her own words before continuing. "I've been doing well, spending most of my time wandering the northern regions of the Misty Mountains. Goblins have been increasing in number, hiding deep within the mountains. Nasty little creatures. Trolls too, farther south than they ever had been before." She cleared her throat.

"I've been doing good deeds mother, doing what I can to keep the evil at bay in the north. It has helped keep the need to hunt satisfied. The people are kept happy, their worries simple things. No shadow threatening to overtake them. It's peaceful, something this city dearly needs..."

Inconnu trailed off, losing herself in her thoughts, her eyes looking at the grave yet not at the same time. She was like this for several minutes before she then said is a soft whisper, "'Forgive me for the fate you must bear.' Why mother, would your last words to me be those ones? What fate have I that is so terrible that you could not tell me? Why-" She held back a choke. "Why didn't you tell me that you loved me?"

"Orcs! Orcs at the eastern wall!"

_**Outskirts of Osgiliath** _

The Witch-King looked on as the orcs just simply slaughtered the defenders of Osgiliath, the bodies growing by the minute. For the destruction of the men, the Lord of Carrion was satisfied with the orc tribe, and though their lack of control was not unexpected it still left him rather... dissatisfied. But they could be taught that under harsh instruction, and they would learn rather quickly. The Witch-King then signaled to his brethren and together they entered the city itself.

"Nazgûl!" Shouted a ranger, his bow raised, armed, and the arrow released in a smooth, practiced motion. It whistled through the air, its destination for the Witch-King as charged into the fray. However the Witch-King was faster, his longsword drawn and flicking the arrow out of the air in a movement that could barely be seen by mortal eyes. The ranger had vanished when the Witch-king looked for him next, but did not think much of it as there were plenty of men who thought to try and challenge him.

Their honor and dedication to the defense of Osgiliath was to be commended, but in the end it was utterly futile. They had no hope in fending off the Nine, especially after the initial onslaught delivered by the orcs. The Nazgûl then scattered, slaying all who dared to come up with the courage to face them, and soon the brave men dwindled to the few who lived to make the sound of retreat. It was then that the Witch-King felt a sensation he had not felt for many centuries. A pull he had not felt since the conquering of what was now Minas Morgul.

Now he was in Osgiliath, the place where he had determined to be the source of that feeling long ago, and this time he followed where it led.

_**Graveyard of Osgiliath** _

At the cry of alarm, Inconnu was instantly to her feet and running to Sverundr. Her senses changed, an old magic activating deep within her. Falling into the behaviors of a hunter, Inconnu felt the thrill of the hunt and a true grin flashed across her features as she swung into the saddle and took the reins. Sverundr, well-versed in his rider's changes and habits, obeyed easily and charged into the conflict not far from them.

Inconnu unslung her bow and notched an arrow at the sign of the first few orcs, and in a single breath and perfected sense of timing, released the arrow. It flew true and struck the first orc dead, and from there had the attention of the rest of them. Her bow once again slung over her shoulder, she drew her sword, its blade gleaming in the sunlight, and engaged the orcs alongside the guards of Osgiliath.

The men looked to her in shock, but felt relief at her aid and with renewed strength struck down the orcs. However, they only managed to hold off another group of orcs before they were forced to retreat. A mounted ranger soon joined them and addressed Inconnu directly with, "Who might you be stranger?"

Inconnu grimaced faintly at the word 'stranger', but replied, "A native of this city, returning though not for long." She glanced back at the carnage and the bodies, both of men and orc. "It seems this will cut my visit even shorter."

"Indeed," The ranger smiled faintly at her light take of the situation, but grew serious just as quickly. "How fast is your horse?"

A fierce glint shone in her silvery-grey eyes. "There has not been a horse yet to outrace him." Sverundr snorted in agreement.

"Could you race to Minas Tirith and warn them of the loss of Osgiliath? We will not be able to hold off the Morgul host for much longer-"

"Nazgûl!" Came the cry and overcame the ranger's words, whose eyes had widened at the news.

"Now we stand no chance at holding the city for as long as I thought we would be able to, tell me, can you ride for Minas Tirith?!"

Inconnu sharply nodded, and the ranger quickly said, "Then ride, and tell the guards that Faramir son of Denethor has sent you!" before riding off to where the call was made. Inconnu then turned Sverundr away from the sounds of the main host and set a full pace to the nearest exit of Osgiliath. A tempted as the inner hunter of Inconnu was, she did not give in and rode past the smaller fights, determined to keep her word to warn Minas Tirith. It was then that she and Sverundr nearly crashed into another rider, one who was a dark blur initially. When she swerved and Sverundr was left dancing around the other horse, she looked at the rider. Inconnu had expected to see another ranger or perhaps a guard of the city.

Instead, she was face-to-face with a rider dressed in robes of black, and whose head was shrouded in the darkness of a deep hood.

Time seemed to slow down for the two riders, their mounts moving around in a circle as they got a good look at the other. For a single moment, Inconnu saw something other than the hooded rider, but a pale man who looked to be emaciated with a tall crown of iron upon his brow. It was a ghostly image, a being not fully of the physical plane, but there all the same. Hidden in plain sight. Then the gaunt look faded and she saw a man of black hair and lordly features, this time seeming as to be more tangible, but still just a wavering image over the physical form of the black rider. Inconnu was left stunned at the things she was seeing, wondering what this experience was and what it could possibly mean. The surprise and wonder was then quickly gone when her mind finally processed the rider opposite her.

_Nazg_ _û_ _l!_

The spell upon them both broke and Inconnu ran Sverundr to where the western edge of Osgiliath lied, not so eager to engage the wraith in combat. With a quick glance behind her she saw that the Nazgûl had followed her, driving his dark horse faster in order to catch her. Inconnu smirked. She doubted that even one of the Nine would even be able to keep pace with Sverundr, much less outrun him.

The riders commenced a chase through the destruction of the city, dodging obstructions of collapsed pillars and those of free-falling stone and other debris. The Nazgûl continued his pursuit, at times even gaining some distance, but Inconnu would make maneuvers that even the dark rider would not dare try. When the edge of the city was in sight, Inconnu had Sverundr make one last sharp turn, hoping to fully throw the Nazgûl off her tail, and let Sverundr run at his full speed with free reign.

Inconnu felt the climaxing tension, could sense the wraith still chasing after her but she dared not to look back. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly to better pace her heart when Sverundr finally crossed into the Pelennor Fields, the flat grassland that lay between Osgiliath and Minas Tirith. It was now that she looked back, in time to see the Nazgûl whirl away from the edge of the city, turning away from his pursuit of her. Inconnu then smiled grimly, happy that she had escaped the Nazgûl, but grim in the news she must now deliver to the Steward of Gondor, Denethor the Second.


	4. An Unexpected Encounter

_"The ideal meeting... Once upon a time... Unexpectedly." -Helen Oyeyemi_

* * *

 

_**Second Age, 3017** _

In quick time, Sverundr arrived at the massive gates of Minas Tirith and Inconnu heard a guard cry out, "Open the gates!" It was a few minutes before they swung open and in that time Inconnu dismounted and entered. As the gates closed, a few guards approached her and greeted her. "Hail rider! What brings you to Minas Tirith with such haste?"

Inconnu loosed the tension from her shoulders. "I bring grave news of Osgiliath from Faramir son of Denethor."

The guards gave each other worried looks before saying, "Come with us. Denethor would want to hear this in person." Without protest and further conversation Inconnu let Sverundr be taken by a stable boy, who had followed closely behind the guards, and she followed the guards through Minas Tirith. She had only been in Minas Tirith once before and never thought she would return. A lot of things she thought weren't possible, or wouldn't happen, were becoming very true in reality.

Considering the overall trek to the throne room, Minas Tirith was a massive, winding staircase. Once at the end of such a journey, the guards who were positioned to protect the room itself admitted Inconnu and her escort, the opened doors revealing a mostly empty room and an empty throne. The room demanded a solemn respect, a feeling that did not last long though as her gaze drifted to a seat adjacent and below the throne, and in it sat an older man with ragged grey hair. This man could only be Denethor the Second. His dark eyes narrowed faintly, slight in his suspicions though it seemed he would not voice them. The dark blond-haired man standing next to him, clad in full Gondorian armor and she assumed to be the Captain of Gondor. It was he that greeted Inconnu first.

"Welcome to the halls of Minas Tirith!"

Inconnu then remembered her manners and got down on one knee, showing respect however late it might have been. Her tone was neutral in her reply. "I apologize for not being able to come under better circumstances. I also ask for forgiveness for my delayed actions, as it has been a long time since I was last in the presence of ruling authority." Silence met her words. It permeated the atmosphere and Inconnu was seriously thinking she did something wrong. It had been a very, very long time since she had met a ruling figure. _Maybe the customs changed, and obviously I wouldn't know about that kind of thing..._

Quiet chuckles, and when Inconnu looked up slightly she was surprised. Denethor was the source of the sound, and the nearly fully armored man seemed surprised as well. This went on for some moments before Denethor said, "I can tell, and though you may be a stranger to my sons I am not so unfamiliar with you." Inconnu's eyes widened slightly as he continued. "My ancestor, Mardil Voronwë, the first Ruling Steward of Gondor, told the story of the Fall of Minas Ithil and the death of King Eärnur I. That has been a tale that has been passed down for generations along the line of the House of Húrin, but the story of a certain young woman saddened with grief yet full of power also made its way from father to son."

Denethor's hand jerked upwards. "Rise, Wanderer of the Mists, for you are no stranger here in Minas Tirith." At this, Inconnu rose with a faint smile, and the dark blond-haired man spoke to Denethor is a tone that conveyed his disbelief.

"Father, I knew the stories to be true but this... That woman existed over a thousand years ago, and powerful or not only few are able to live so long-"

"I can answer your questions easily," Interrupted Inconnu. "But we have yet to be properly introduced to each other. You me already, but you are..." She also held out her hand, and the man recognized the offer quickly filled in the blank she purposely left while taking her arm in a warriors clasp.

"Boromir son of Denethor, his eldest. You met my younger brother Faramir in Osgiliath." He let go of her arm. "So how _are_ you the same woman in the story?"

"My mother was of pure Numenorian blood while my father, though I never met him, was one of the Sindar. _That_ is how I've managed to live so long naturally." She said that last part with a bit of a smirk, but one had to sincerely look for them to notice it. Boromir gave a nod, accepting of her heritage.

"It is rare to meet one of the Half-Elven, and an honor to meet one such as yourself as well. Now tell me, how is my younger brother?"

"Uninjured and trying to save what was left of Osgiliath, though I fear he will be unable to save even that much."

"How come?" The question came from Denethor, and Inconnu replied solemnly, "The orcs were particularly vicious, but they would have been taken care of if not for the arrival of the Nazgûl." Both men were instantly still as even the mere mention of the wraiths sent a shiver of fear through their bodies. Denethor closed his eyes a moment before opening them to look at Inconnu before asking, "You are certain it was indeed the Nazgûl and not some rumor or grand illusion?"

Inconnu narrowed her eyes at the insinuation that she was a liar, but it was not apparent in her calm tone. "Very much so, as one of them chased me through the destruction. Most likely he was intent on not letting me leave the city so I could not come here."

"How did you escape?" Asked Boromir.

"Sverundr, my horse and greatest companion, easily outran the Nazgûl's own black steed."

Silence, and Inconnu could see Denethor's thoughts working behind his eyes. The loss of Osgiliath was bad for the defense and security of Gondor from Mordor, and with the Nine making such an offensive made for an even worse situation. After a bit of time of the heavy silence, Denethor spoke, trying to hide the worry in his tone. "I thank you for your message Inconnu. What could Minas Tirith give you in return for such invaluable news?"

Inconnu shifted slightly, uncomfortable in this situation of gratitude and debt. She didn't like people to owe her anything, much less owe anything to anyone. It was then she said, "I only ask for supplies and a night's rest of Minas Tirith. In the morning I shall leave for the Misty Mountains and glean what I can of further darkness. I feel...distressed at leaving the far reaches of the North unguarded for very long."

"What of the Dûnedain? Do they not also patrol the North?" Asked Boromir.

"I think we both know that the Dûnedain grow fewer in number each passing century. They have not been able to thrive since the Fall of Arnor."

It was met with a solemn nod, and Denethor then spoke. "You ask for so little for something so great. Your humbleness of welcome, so please," Denethor gestured to the great doors behind her. "Take your rest and supplies will be waiting for you at first light." His tone seeming a little off to Inconnu. It was a tone that marked deep change in a person. Though having only known Denethor for mere minutes, Inconnu could tell that something was wrong with the man. The air of the throne room was nearly tangible with it to her, though Boromir seemed unaware and thus unaffected by it as he said, "I will show you to your room, as a personal thanks for you delivering the message from Faramir."

It was not contested by Denethor, who remained silent and Inconnu was escorted out by Boromir. Once they were walking down one of the many long corridors of the upper levels of Minas Tirith, he said to her quietly, "I apologize for my father during the last little while of the audience. He is a troubled man, and the loss of Osgiliath to the Sauron's darkest servants will only trouble him more deeply now."

Inconnu gave a deep nod. "I can understand to some degree." At this, Boromir smiled earnestly.

"Yes, I have heard the stories of my forefather's, but I also know the ones of the Huntress of the North. Of trolls traveling south, goblins increasing by scores, and even a great wyrm who terrorized the rare traveler that ventured too close to its new territory. You'll have to tell me those stories some time."

"If we were to meet again in the future, perhaps I'll have to." She stopped walking, making Boromir stop also and look at her strangely as she then asked, "Is there a library of some sort here in Minas Tirith?" His confusion faded quickly.

"Yes, a great one that has been kept since the completion of the fortress and its surrounding city. Would you like me to show you where it is?"

Inconnu smiled as she replied, "Yes, but I think it best you show me my room so I know where to go after my time in the library."

"Yes, of course." And Boromir led her to the door to her room. "I'll be able to take you to the library, but afterwards I'll need to speak to my father about Osgiliath. Hopefully, Faramir was able to escape the city and is able to join us." Inconnu nodded, and as they make their way to the deeper levels within Minas Tirith, she paid close attention to the turns and the look of the environments. She would make sure she would not get lost when she decided to leave the library.

They came to a massive door, and the guards there gave a nod of respect to Boromir before they opened the door. Boromir looked to Inconnu and said, "Please, take as much time as you wish."

Before he was more than a few feet away Inconnu's voice stopped him. "I'm sure Faramir is all right. My first impression of him was that of a warrior and a survivor, and so he should have been able to escape Osgiliath." Her words were met with a hopeful smile that also conveyed his thanks before he turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Inconnu then walked into the library and took a deep breath, inhaling the dust and musk that was an old collection of books.

This was a rare treat for her, a passion not many had ever known about her. Being in the Misty Mountains for very long periods of time tends to change people, and for Inconnu it was to become disconnected with most people. With elves and dwarves it was not so much a hardship, but with men who were not of Numenorian heritage it was an awkward encounter. Deep in these types of thoughts Inconnu wandered the shelves, the newer ones filled with leather-bound tomes and the ones deeper into the massive chamber filled with yellow, aging scrolls.

It was in this section of the library that she ran into someone. Quite literally. Stumbling back but quickly regaining her balance, Inconnu looked up to see weathered features, a long grey beard, and kind blue-grey eyes. He was taller than her, like most people were, and his robes and tall, pointed hat were a grey that matched his beard. It was impossible not to recognize him.

 _Gandalf the Grey_ , Inconnu thought with a sense of awe. This was one of many people of longevity she had never met, and perhaps the most famous in Middle Earth.


	5. A Connection of Secrets

_"Some secrets are meant to be known;_ _but once known you can never forget them."_ _-Pseudonymous Bosch_

* * *

 

Gandalf chuckled as he stood a little straighter with the help of his staff as he said, "You must have been very deep in your mind to not see what is in front of you." Inconnu straightened as well.

"I deeply apologize, and yes I was a bit lost within my mind."

Gandalf smiled kindly. "Apology accepted, though it is a little unnecessary. I too was lost in my thoughts as well." At this Inconnu smiled widely, and then her eyes widened noticeably when he asked, "What brings the Huntress of the North to Minas Tirith?"

Inconnu's tone was disbelieving when she replied, "You know me?"

Gandalf chuckled. "I know _of_ you, much like in the way you of myself I presume. Through reputation and rumor." She nodded, and he asked again, "What does bring you here to Minas Tirith?" Inconnu's smile faded a little.

"To deliver the news of Osgiliath's fall to the Nazgûl."

Gandalf's aged features furrowed, his worry plain for all to see. "The Nazgûl, truly?" Inconnu gave a solemn nod, and the grey wizard sighed. "It seems that the Dark Lord has made his second move. First Dol Guldur, then Minas Ithil, and now Osgiliath. I fear to think of where his eye will turn to next."

"He has taken Dol Guldur?" Inconnu asked. "I have heard of a necromancer that resided there briefly a little over sixty years ago, but that threat was quickly vanquished."

"Not vanquished, but banished. The necromancer was revealed as Sauron himself, and it was the Lady Galadriel of Loríen who sent him running back to Mordor. It was fifty years ago that he sent three of the Nazgûl to reoccupy the ruins and in that same year announced his return."

Inconnu was silent, eyes closed as she sifted through a particular set of memories before opening her gaze to meet Gandalf's and replying with, "I remember a change during the time you speak of. It was not a physical change like the one upon Mirkwood, but a change I cannot find the right words to describe but the closest I could get is that a shadow came, a shadow left, and then it returned in an instant."

Gandalf gave a nod. "You would not be the only one to describe it as such. If you don't mind my asking, why were you in Osgiliath? I suspect not for the battle that had happened." Inconnu's gaze saddened.

"Visiting my mother's grave. Since I spend so long traveling and hunting deep within the Misty Mountains, I visit when I am able to resist the urge to hunt. She may have not been the best mother, but she was mine and she deserves that respect."

The grey wizard put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "I am glad to witness a sign of your honor for myself. You are a rare woman and a worthy hunter." This brought a more proud smile to her features. A thought then struck Inconnu and she asked him, "How come you are in Minas Tirith? Something must have drawn you here as something drew myself here."

"Oh," Gandalf gave a quick smile and gestured to a scroll laid out on the table behind him, "Just doing a bit of research on something I came across recently." It was a very old looking scroll, a deep yellow and its edges very worn and cracked. Inconnu could tell that it was very important to whatever Gandalf was doing.

"I should leave you to your research then, and I should retire for the night." She bowed her head deeply in respect for the grey wizard, but before she could turn around and leave he asked, "What really brought you here to this part of the library?" At this, Inconnu paused and replied slowly, "I don't really know, as I was really just wandering and my feet took me here."

Gandalf gave her a knowing gaze. "Perhaps there is something here for you to read, and perhaps it wants you to find it."

Inconnu tilted her head slightly to the side and asked, "And if those _'perhaps'_ are indeed true, what counsel would you give?" Gandalf pulled out his pipe and lit it, a ring of smoke forming during his first exhale. Inconnu waited to see what he would say, and she was not disappointed when his gaze locked onto hers and he gave a faint shrug.

"I would say, 'Follow your intuition, and see where it leads.' But it is up to you whether or not to follow the path it wants to lead you on."

Standing there for a few more moments, Inconnu, with surprising ease, made her decision and began to walk. Gandalf smiled, and after watching her disappear into the veritable maze of bookshelves, he returned to his scroll. Searching for a proof, the answer, among its ancient script. Inconnu herself wandered for some time among the scrolls, her grey eyes darting between the shelves, wondering what she would possibly find in them.

Then her feet stopped walking, and she found herself beside a very old collection of shelves next to a table almost as old. Inconnu had no idea which scroll to take, but something in her told her to close her eyes and reach out to the scrolls. And she did so, the long fingers of her small hand wrapping around a particularly brittle scroll. Opening her eyes, she looked down at the scroll for a few moments before she went to the table and carefully unraveled it. Internally Inconnu flinched at each loud crack, afraid to unintentionally break the scroll apart.

Once it was fully unraveled, Inconnu glanced over it before realizing what era it came from. The scroll, it seemed, came from the days during the Fall of Arnor. Inextricably interested, she then began to read:

_The year nineteen seventy-five of the Third Age. Here follows the account of Glorfindel, the Elven Hero of the First Age, and the Fall of the Witch-Realm of Angmar._

_The day had finally come, the day Angmar fell and the day Arnor was finally freed from the darkness and power of the Witch-King. However the people will never fully wake from the nightmare that they had suffered for so long, though they can know that such evil shall never return to the North. "Never again will evil lay claim to Arnor!" Words so fitfully said by the young Captain of Gondor, E_ _ä_ _rnur son of E_ _ä_ _rnil II, King of Gondor._

_Not long after those words did the Witch-King himself appear, a tall rider cloaked in black and a crown of iron upon his brow. His equally dark steed was set charging down the hills, a screech of fury filling the air as he rode for the Captain of Gondor. Luck was with my young friend however, as his own horse fled in fright of the Witch-king. This was what halted the Witch-King's charge and his following screech could have been considered one of laughter. I could tell that the sorcerer was mocking E_ _ärnur, assuming that he fled in cowardice._

_I then went to face the Witch-King myself, but luck must have also been with me as the Witch-King then turned and fled into the darkening shadows of the night. The sun had then fully set, and once it did there was no hope in ever finding the Witch-King, and I knew within the deepest parts of my being that he would also never return with ill-intent for the North. Eärnur tried to follow him nonetheless and I stopped him, and thus said words that will be forever remembered in the histories of Middle-Earth._

" _Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall."_

_Eärnur, I knew, heard these words and heeded my warning, but anger had rooted deep in his heart and I knew he desired to avenge his disgrace. I knew then that one day, Eärnur and the Witch-King would meet once again and the Captain of Gondor would not survive the encounter._

Inconnu knew the tale this scroll spoke of. She had often traveled close to where Angmar once was, but did not enter for the air still felt of dark magic and it made her feel sick, both physically and spiritually. It was nothing new to her, and she wondered why her intuition would lead her to this specific scroll. Inconnu brushed her hand across the bottom of the page, absently cleaning it of dust.

To her surprise, words of silver lettering appeared, adding to the above entry:

_It is here, under the magic of my blood and the will to summon the one I have predicted to someday find these hidden words._

_After E_ _ärnur had left my presence I muttered more of the prophecy, a second half. Words that I know will determine the fate of two souls, one of whom I have already been in the presence of._

_"Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy."_

_It is these words that I have predicted two futures, and though I cannot imagine a world where the Witch-King, the Lord of the Nine, is redeemed, I leave it to the will of the stars and the courage of the woman whom the prophecy spoke of to decide his fate._

Inconnu's fingers froze upon the scroll, as they were suddenly numb, but her thoughts were anything but still. They chased each other, random pieces of information that now suddenly connected.

Her mother on her death bed, apologizing for her fate. _"I only hope you will one day forgive me for the dark fate you were born to Inconnu. Though I can only believe that it is the last thing I deserve."_

The words of the scroll. _"Her fate intertwined with his..."_

Being chased by the Nazgûl through the crumbling city of Osgiliath. _She saw something other than the hooded rider, but a pale man who looked to be emaciated with a tall crown of iron upon his brow. Then that image faded to reveal a healthy man, black of hair and dark eyes, wearing the same crown._

More connected to it from the scroll. _"Not long after those words did the Witch-King himself appear, a tall rider cloaked in black and a crown of iron upon his brow."_

Inconnu was left with one, single, great and terrible thought. It was something she could never have imagined, could never have had a dream nor nightmare of.

_That woman is me, and my fate is bound to the Witch-King's._

Her body began to tremble, shaking from the sheer shock and force of such an epiphany, and without another glance at the scroll she fled form the library and did not stop until she was in her room, begging for sleep to come and take her.

Now Gandalf had seen Inconnu run from the library, and as he had finished his own reading, a clue to finding the truth about the ring in young Frodo's possession at hand, he decided to go to where she was. To see what she had discovered. The grey wizard soon came upon the niche with the desk and the scroll laid out across it. Quickly, he read the words and with surprise found the hidden message and read it too, before it then faded away completely.

After taking a moment to process the information, Gandalf lightly sighed. This second half of Glorfindel's prophecy changed many things now, things concerning not only the fate of Middle Earth, but particularly the Witch-King's. As Sauron's second in command, his Black Captain, the Witch-King held much power and magic. Through the first half of the prophecy, the Ringwraith was effectively invincible and few would even dare to try their hand at slaying him. A woman, however, would stand a chance and it seemed that Inconnu was the one who held the power to destroy him.

But she also had the power to redeem the Witch-King, according the second half, and it was in this that Gandalf began to form an idea, a foolish one perhaps, but one that also gave just enough hope to seem plausible.


	6. A Decision of Importance

" _It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped." -Tony Robbins_

* * *

  _ **Third Age, 3018**_

Fall had now fully settled in Middle Earth, the trees of the small forest turning vibrant shades of red, orange, and gold. It had been four months since Inconnu had left the fortress of Minas Tirith, left it in a whirlwind of Sverundr's speed and her own emotions. The months that had passed, time itself, had helped to calm those emotions, but they had yet to silence completely. Inconnu had been leisurely traveling the North-South Road, and not doing much else other than that. She was lost in her thoughts, ones that belonged solely to the Witch-King.

How can it be, that my fate could be so easily decided? What made the stars decide that I was fit to decide the fate of another, a man who fell to the corruption of the One Ring and is the Dark Lord's deadliest servant? Is it even possible that the Witch-King can be redeemed?

These were honest doubts, and they brought some security for Inconnu, but also insecurity as well. All she had ever known was the life of a wandering hunter. The northern parts of the Misty Mountains were familiar to her, as safe for her as it was dangerous for others. It was there she was headed. The day was calm and Inconnu took in a deep breath, the crisp and cool air helping to settle her nerves, to sooth her growing anxiety.

Soon, the sun was setting on the western horizon and Inconnu decided to stop and make camp. She was now only a day's ride from the Gwathló, more commonly known as the Greyflood. After crossing it at Tharbad she would then make her way to Bree to resupply before moving east to the Misty Mountains. Though the supplies from Minas Tirith were indeed plentiful and she still had much left, it was best to resupply anyway for no one could predict the events of long journeys.

The campfire was small, though more than warm enough to keep the nights chill away. Sverundr was fully resting on the ground and Inconnu had taken to her normal practice of resting her back against his side. She was gazing up at the stars, watching them and finding familiar constellations, and oftentimes she would create new ones to entertain an imagination that stayed with her throughout childhood and to this very day remained. It was also the best distraction she could come up with, no longer wishing to think upon fate and the Witch-King. Through this she was fairly successful until she fell asleep, and as she succumbed to it she hoped for no dreams of him.

* * *

  _She was in a frozen and desolate room, large pieces of masonry strewn everywhere. Inconnu looked about herself, and her gaze fell upon a throne carved of stone, covered in a thick layer of ice coated in frost. It was in the exact center of the room, a prominent display of power and dominance. Though empty, she could feel the ominous aura it exuded, and she was willing to bet there was not even a corner unaffected by its presesnce._

" _This is the throne room within Carn D_ _û_ _m, the capital of the Witch-Realm of Angmar."_

_Inconnu whirled around to see who had spoken, but saw nothing. The voice continued to speak._

" _It was here that the Witch-King sat, directing his forces in the purpose of destroying Arnor, the northern kingdom of men. Tasked by his master to break its will and people."_

_Inconnu once again looked for the voice, and said, "I know of what you speak of, but I must ask you to show yourself. I'd rather we speak face to face, for I find it stranger to talk to a disembodied voice." A chuckle, this time more tangible, sounded behind her and she whirled around to see who made it. Now Inconnu saw someone, a man of great height and was dressed in the furs of a hunter as much as she was. Her subconscious nagged at her, telling her that she should know who this man was. That problem however was quite easily solved when he introduced himself._

" _Greetings Inconnu Naeril, Huntress of the North. I am Orom_ _ë_ _, the Great Hunter and one of the Aratar."_

 _Inconnu was struck speechless. She had grown up with the tales of the Valar, the gods of Middle Earth, and so being a part of such an experience was simply amazing. Orom_ _ë chuckled again. "Please, treat me as a friend even though there were none ever here in this place. Speaking of which, that is the purpose to this meeting." Inconnu snapped out of her daze._

" _You wanted to meet and decided to meet in dreams rather than when I was awake?"_

" _It is easier to communicate this way. Easier for me particularly since I visit Middle Earth more often than my brothers and sisters. However, that time is still limited and we have much to discuss."_

_Inconnu gave a sharp nod and then asked, "Why bring me to place such as Carn Dûm? Though defeated, Angmar still holds such a dark presence in the North."_

_Orom_ _ë gave a slower nod, one of understanding. "I know, and I also know that you have felt it yet never dared to cross the border into Angmar. You feel sick do you not?" Another nod from Inconnu, and he continued. "That is because it was not time for you to enter Angmar, but that time will come and sooner than you would guess. Now the main topic for what I am here for is what I wish to truly discuss with you: Your fate and the Witch-King of Angmar's. I found this broken throne room a fitting setting for such a conversation. Ask your questions."_

_His reasoning made sense to Inconnu, and she then asked the questions that came to her first. "Why? Why would my fate be tied to his? Why must I be the one to decide his fate?" Oromë was quiet for a few moments._

" _Why indeed? It is, of course, prophecy and such things always come true one way or another. Why you? Because you are the one with the soul that is akin to the Witch-King's." He leaned forward a bit, staring into her grey eyes with his vibrant emerald green ones. "Because you, Inconnu Naeril, are his other half, the light to his darkness, the love to his hate, and the one he most desperately needs."_

_Oromë took a step back and lightly gestured to the room as a whole. "Beneath the corruption of the One Ring-a dark power that has tainted his mind, heart and soul-he's still there. The corruption is thick, a great prison of greed and power, but inside that cage is a man of honor who wants to be free."_

_The silence that followed was heavy as Inconnu took in the information, and then repeated her last question in a small whisper, looking down at the ground a little. "Why must I be the one to decide his fate?" Oromë stepped forth and put a comforting hand upon her shoulder, and at this she looked up into his eyes and saw the deep kindness he held._

" _Because I can think of no one better than his soul-mate to make such a decision. I can think of no one worthier to free his mind, heart and soul, and no one with more honor to end his miserable existence as a shadow of his former self."_

 _Inconnu took a shaky breath, her mind working to accept these answers._ So we are bound together more deeply than I had originally assumed, _she thought as she took another breath and stepped back from the Great Hunter. Inconnu looked around the ruins of Carn Dûm, the symbol of the Witch-King's defeat in the North, before speaking her thoughts._

" _I don't know what it is to love or to be loved. Only the concept and what I have seen in others. I have never known the love of my father, an Elven man my mother barely mentioned in my childhood when I asked such questions. The care of a mother I have known, but love? That was replaced with knowing how she suffered the regret that I was born and thusly bound to the Witch-King." She looked to Oromë. "I can accept that our souls are tied to each other, but how can I love him if I do not know what love truly is?"_

_This gave the Vala pause, and it was obvious that he thought on this deeply for what seemed like eternal minutes before he replied carefully, "Love is one of the most unpredictable feelings within any race of Middle Earth and even within the Valar, but in my marriage with Vána I have learned an important fact about this powerful emotion: When given time and a single chance, it becomes the most powerful magic any could ever experience."_

_Inconnu now though on this, wondering many things. Could she save the Witch-King? Was there in fact still a man underneath the wraith? Was she willing enough to give him the single chance Oromë spoke of? She then asked the Vala, "What would be the worst thing I could do?"_

_He replied without hesitance. "Nothing. You could do nothing at all and you would lose the chance to save him. All that would await the Witch-King then would be a true death and not one by your hand."_

_That was all Inconnu needed to hear, and Oromë's emerald eyes shined more brightly when he realized that she had made her decision. He then asked her in a hushed tone, "What are you going to do next Inconnu Naeril?" A gleam in her eyes made itself known._

" _I am going to find him, and then I am going to see if I can find the man you speak of."_

_At this, Oromë gave a great smile. "What is said is done." He looked up a moment before his gaze went back to hers. "I must be leaving now, but I leave with hope. Both for you and him."_

" _Wait!" Inconnu cried out as he began to fade away but in that instant the dream flashed to darkness._

* * *

 Inconnu awoke with a start, sitting up and panting. She felt something large shift behind her and whipped her head to look at what is was, only to see Sverundr's large head close up. The stallion snorted, and Inconnu relaxed with a faint chuckle before patting his nose. "It's alright, just a strange dream of great meaning. Or perhaps..." Inconnu took in a deep breath. "A true vision of Oromë, the Great Hunter."

Another snort, and Inconnu shrugged lightly. "Don't worry my friend, besides we've still a ways to go before we reach Bree." She stood before carefully stretching her limbs, and Sverundr did something of a similar nature. The next half hour was dedicated to clean up of the small camp and putting on Sverundr's tack. Mounting the saddle, Inconnu turned the grey stallion to the north and now rode for the crossroads village mere days away.


	7. The Fight at Weathertop

" _Hunting isn't a sport or a hobby. It's a calling to something greater." -Unknown_

* * *

 

_**Outside Bree** _

The Witch-King and the four Nazgûl that had traveled with him to the East met up with his second, Khamûl the Easterling, near a village called Bree. It was located on the eastern edge of the Shire, a place where rain felt the constant need to fall. Already, the Witch-King was in a poor mood, and when all of the Nine were once again in company, the news his lieutenant brought to him only made it worse. Khamûl's mount pranced a little, feeling the tension as its rider greeted his king with the news.

"Ul Raumn wuak noav avhere. Iav iuk now carrium afar ij Hobbiav." _The Ring was not there. It is now carried by a Hobbit._

The Witch-King growled. "Agh nalkramal iuk avhe Hobbiav?" _And where is the Hobbit?_

The Easterling, in a quick and rigid movement, pointed to where the main entrance of Bree lay further down the path. "Wiavhin avhe avown." _Within the village._

With an all too familiar screech the Witch-King raced his dark horse down the path to Bree, intent on correcting his second's failure, and the others followed in his wake.

_**Later** _

The Nine toppled the gate the Bree, crushing its withered gatekeeper underneath. In they rode to where they sensed the One Ring. It was close, its presence nearly tangible in the air. They soon came to the inn, unfortunately named the _Prancing Pony_ , but it was barely considered before the Witch-King, Khamûl, and two others dismounted in unison, drawing their longswords and with unnatural grace swept into the building. The Ring was close.

Easily, they found the room and inside lay four small forms upon small beds. The Hobbits, and one of them carried the One Ring, the object their master so greatly desired to have once again.

The Witch-King and the other three positioned themselves and raised their swords, ready at a single word to strike down the sleeping Hobbits. And the Witch-king did indeed give the word without a moment's hesitation.

They struck the Hobbits, piercing the heavy blankets and into what lied beneath them. This was done repeatedly, and something struck the Witch-King in a bad way. Something was wrong, for some strange reason this felt too easy. He had to check, and the Witch-King ripped the blanket away from the bed he had been stabbing into. A whirlwind of feathers surrounded him, and the other Nazgûl repeated the action, adding more feathers into the air. They had been tricked.

Screaming their outrage the Witch-King and the others raced out, their cries met with the shrieks of those who remained outside, and when they were mounted once again they rode out of Bree, angered, frustrated, and intent on seeking out the true whereabouts of the Ring.

_**Outskirts of Bree** _

The night had long since claimed the land as Inconnu traveled up the North-South road, coming close to the small, cornerstone village of Bree. Rain was pouring down in sheets, and Inconnu lowered her head further to try and keep the cold rain better away from her face. Dawn was soon to come, and hopefully the end of the storm. Sverundr shook his head, shaking off a torrent of rain that was quickly of placed. He was not pleased with traveling in this weather, and Inconnu smiled as she patted his neck. "Hey, we've been through worse. Remember the avalanche the noise of those trolls caused a few years back? I consider that _much_ worse than this little rainstorm."

Sverundr bobbed his head before he shook his head to bet rid of the rain again, and Inconnu sighed. Her thoughts of what she was to have thought of next never arrived as she then heard a shrieking not so far away. Sverundr shied from the fearsome screeching, and Inconnu, through some innate intuition, guided off the path and hid them in the dark trees. Not long after, nine riders cloaked in black rode past. She watched them go, and the one who rode at the front seemed to be familiar. _It couldn't be..._ But it certainly was. Inconnu recognized the pommel of the sword the dark rider carried at his side.

 _It's the Nazg_ _û_ _l who chased me back when Osgiliath fell... why would he be here?_ Minutes after the Nine passed, Inconnu looked down at Sverundr and asked, thinking of her recent dream, "How about we hunt ourselves a Nazgûl?" Sverundr shook his head, turning it to look her in the eye like she had lost her mind. Inconnu shrugged. "More of a challenge than goblins or trolls. Besides, I want to see if what Oromë said was true."

Sverundr snorted and looked away before walking back onto the path, facing the direction of where the Nazgûl vanished into the shadows of the coming dawn. Her ache to hunt flared and she grinned. "All right then, let us hunt not just a Nazgûl, but the Witch-King of Angmar!" And with that she spurred Sverundr into a gallop down the sodden road, chasing after the black riders.

**_Two Days Later_ **

Inconnu walked on foot, leading Sverundr by the reins with a hand, the other holding her strung bow, as they trekked along the tree line near Weathertop, formerly the watchtower of Amon Sûl during the days of Arnor. She had lost the trail of the Nine a day ago, having been unable to track them since the previous night. Now the sun of the second day since she started her hunt was setting, but Inconnu wasn't too worried. She had hunted creatures for far longer, and patience had formed because of such experiences.

Still, her prey had seemingly vanished into the darkness, leaving naught a single clue behind of their passing. That is what truly frustrated Inconnu. A few more hours passed in silence, Inconnu's grey eyes searching the darkness. Her stomach rumbled, and Inconnu was forced to stop and make a small camp, though ate a cold meal. Starting a fire was dangerous when hunting dangerous prey. In the silence of the forest and quiet munching's of food, Inconnu sensed another presence join her. It held no ill-will, but it was cautious. Traits she had seen in many before.

Inconnu broke off a piece of bread and held it out to where she felt the presence. "Care to join me in a simple meal?" Sverundr snorted and shifted on his hooves. After a few heavy moments, a ranger appeared from the trees and said, "So you are her." Inconnu smiled faintly.

"And who am I?"

The ranger accepted her offered bread and leaned against a tree. "The Huntress of the North, Wanderer of the Misty Mountains, you are Inconnu Naeril."

Inconnu gave a single nod. "You have me at a disadvantage ranger. What might be the names you carry?"

After swallowing a bite of the bread the ranger replied, "In this land I am known as Strider."

"My greetings to you, Strider."

Strider then asked, "What is it that you hunt? Something very dark must have escaped the Misty Mountains if you came down-" But he then stiffened and stared in the direction of Weathertop. "Fools..." he muttered under his breath. Inconnu also looked to the ruins of the tower in time to see a bright, orange-red light become snuffed out. Following the sight, the sound of many shrieks filled the air. Inconnu moved her head to look at Strider as she stood, picking up her bow.

" _That_ is what I hunt. Care to join me?" And to that, Strider gave a deep nod. After instructing Sverundr to remain close, but far from the danger, Inconnu and Strider made for Weathertop. They were rushing shadows, Inconnu's inner hunter alive with excitement. When they were mere yards away from the base of the ruins, Strider held up a hand and they stopped. Coming forth from the fog that covered the ground leading to Weathertop. They watched as the Nazgûl made their way into the ruins, and Strider looked to her.

"Make a torch. The fire will drive them away."

Without question, and quickly, Inconnu prepared a simple torch of wood and spare strips of cloth. Strider had also done the same and his was already lit, and he used it to light hers as well. "Quickly, the Hobbits won't be able to hold their own for long!" And they raced into the ruins. When they dashed up the steps, still sticking to the shadows, Inconnu was struck still when she saw the Nazgûl she had be trying to track.

Her sight had changed, everything now in various shades of grey, darkness and what seemed to be light whipping around like a fast moving river in the air. She saw the Witch-King clearer than the first time she had seen him. It seemed to her that he was tangible in this strange world. The experience ended when the Witch-King withdrew a dagger and stabbed the Halfling cowering on the ground. It was then that Strider appeared and flashed the fire before the Nazgûl, and the world for Inconnu returned to normal. She joined the ranger in fighting off the Ringwraiths, noticing when one would be lit on fire and flee with a screech.

Soon enough, she was face-to-face with the Witch-King. He seemed to recognize Inconnu, and then engaged her in combat with a downward slash. She struck the blade aside with her own and followed with a counterstrike. This was parried and blow for blow the Witch-King forced her back step for step. Inconnu was certainly at a disadvantage when it came to sheer strength, and so she instantly went on the defensive. She dodged and parried and moved around him, trying to keep him on his toes and retain some control of the fight.

It seemed though that the Witch-King was not so easily brought into it, and relentlessly he clashed his blade with hers. Inconnu wasn't so sure she would be able keep the Witch-King at bay, much less keep a hold her sword. Each time their blades met it sent a jarring shock through her arms. She was definitely unprepared for such raw yet concentrated power. And soon enough, her defense did break and the Witch-Kings longsword slashed into her, cutting the flesh from her collarbone and down her bicep. It was deep wound and Inconnu bit the inside of her cheek to hold in the scream as her sword also clattered to the ground. She was now defenseless against him as the Witch-King then raised his sword for the final strike.

However, it was not to be for then the Witch-King was consumed in fire. He let out a piercing screech and he ran from her, escaping from the ruined tower cloaked in flames. Inconnu took several deep breaths and then looked over to Strider, who gave a nod to say that it was he who threw the torch. She gave one back in gratitude.

"Strider!" It was one of the Hobbits, who had a caramel shade of hair, and he was crouched next to a thinner, black-haired one. The black-haired on was gasping for breath, his skin already an alarming pale color. Strider was quickly on his knees and inspecting the wound. Inconnu was there quickly as well, though slower as not to jar her wounded shoulder too much. The ranger then picked up a thin-bladed dagger. His tone was frustrated as he said, "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." And the blade crumbled to dust, Strider quickly dropping it. "This is beyond my skill, he needs elvish medicine."

Strider picked up the gasping Hobbit, and the rest of the Hobbits followed without question. Inconnu followed as well, and once she was at the bottom of the ruins she let out a sharp whistle. Strider was putting the black-haired Hobbit onto his gelding as Sverundr dashed from the shadows and mist, and when he stopped in front of her sniffed and snorted. He knew she was heavily injured, and so lowered to his knees to make her mounting the saddle that much easier. Inconnu was grateful for it too, though her shoulder still sent stabs of pain when Sverundr rose from the ground and went at a careful trot, following Strider and the Hobbits to the one place where Inconnu knew they could get elvish medicine.

Rivendell.


	8. A Race to the River

" _Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye" -H. Jackson Brown, Jr._

* * *

 

_**Trollshaws Forest** _

The group made their way through the forest with a hurried pace, Strider pulling his gelding along and Inconnu following behind the group. Strider glanced back at everyone and then looked deep into the forest, searching for the riders that most assuredly were following them. A screech and a responding call confirmed both Inconnu and Strider's suspicions. The black-haired Hobbit groaned and Strider called out to the rest of the group, "Hurry!"

The caramel-haired Hobbit replied worriedly, "We're six days from Rivendell! He'll never make it!" Inconnu sighed inwardly. _True observations, but hold out with hope as it is often the only thing we have left in dire times._ A sentiment, it seemed, that Strider shared.

"Hold on Frodo."

_**Two Days Later** _

Strider had their small company stop for a rest in a clearing, surrounded by towering stone trolls. Inconnu looked at them with interest, as though having fought such creatures farther north in the Misty Mountains. Frodo, as now she knew his name, was more pale than before and gasping for breath. His eyes seemed to be covered in a milky film, and they looked to be staring at something yet nothing at all. The caramel-haired Hobbit tried to get Frodo to talk.

"Look Frodo, its Mr. Bilbo's trolls... Mr. Bilbo?" The Hobbit put the back of his hand to Frodo's forehead, soon pulling it back and looking to Strider. "He's going cold!"

Strider took another sweeping gaze of the forest, closely followed but the light of his torch, before coming to Frodo's side. One of the Hobbits with more angular features asked with worry lacing every word, "Is he going to die?"

"He's passing into the Shadow World. He'll soon become a wraith like them." Strider did a better job of hiding his worry, but his tone turned hard when he addressed Inconnu, who remained on Sverundr as to not risk making her wound worse, turning his head slightly to better look at her. "How were you able to enter the Shadow World when you are not a wraith and possess no such ring of power?"

The three Hobbits also stared at her, but Inconnu asked calmly, "What do you mean?"

"You don't know? When we first caught sight of the Ringwraiths inside Weathertop I saw you vanish for mere moments only to return when Frodo was stabbed." Inconnu thought on this carefully.

"I have only experienced such a thing once before, but did not know how others saw it. This is something very recent for me and I do not fully understand it. I can assure everyone here though," Inconnu looked into the eyes of the ranger and the Hobbits as she continued with, "I am on your side in this fight."

Strider nodded. "I won't doubt your word Huntress, not with a life at stake-" A piercing screech cut through the night air, and Inconnu stated, "They're closing in on us. We can't stay for much longer."

Strider turned his head to the caramel-haired Hobbit at Frodo's side. "Sam, do you know the Athelas plant?" The Hobbit looked at him in confusion. "Athelas."

Strider sighed faintly. "Kingsfoil."

Sam then eagerly nodded as he replied, "Kingsfoil, aye, it's a weed."

"It may help with the poisoning. Hurry!"

Without further encouragement, the Hobbit ran into the forest with Strider close behind. Inconnu took in a deep breath at that moment, and looked to find that the remaining two Hobbits were still staring at her. The one who had asked if Frodo was going to die then asked her, "Who _are_ you?" Inconnu chuckled softly to herself.

"Someone who doesn't come down from the mountains often."

"So you're a hermit?" The other one asked.

"I don't think hermits spend their time hunting dangerous creatures in dangerous places. What are your names?" Inconnu questioned.

"I'm Pippin, and this here is Merry." Pippin gestured to the other Hobbit, who asked, "And what's your name?"

"Inconnu."

Before the Hobbits could ask any more questions, a white horse bearing a slim rider cantered into the clearing. The rider dismounted smoothly and Inconnu saw the rider to be a female elf of long dark hair. She instantly went to Frodo's side, who only looked worse the longer time went on. Strider was not far behind her as he reappeared in the clearing as she was speaking in the soft and elegant tones of the Elvish language.

"Who is she?" Pippin asked, and Sam, who had also returned, replied, "She's an elf." Inconnu was less concerned with the side talk and focused on what Strider and the Elven woman were saying to each other.

"He's fading," The Elven woman said as Strider applied the flowers of the Athelas plant to Frodo's wound. "He's not going to last, we must get him to my father." Strider promptly picked up Frodo, who groaned at the movement, and the Elven woman continued with, "I've been looking for you for two days." Strider then put Frodo on her white horse.

"Where are you taking him?!" Merry questioned, his tone holding slight objection, but it was ignored by Strider and the Elven woman as she said to him, "There are five wraiths behind you, where the other four are I do not know."

Inconnu found this the perfect time to insert herself into the conversation, maneuvering Sverundr closer to them. "Correction, all _nine_ of them are following us, and I suspect they have been since their appearance in Bree. Maybe even before then." The Elven woman turned around in shock, not having noticed Inconnu before now. They matched gazes for a few moments before recognition entered the Elven woman's eyes. Now she spoke in Elvish.

"Wanderer en' i' Mists..." _Wanderer of the Mists..._

Inconnu, able to understand and speak Elvish, replied, "Amin naa, nan' lye must asca tuulo' sinome. Ron naa tulien." _I am, but we must hurry from here. They are coming._ The Elven woman gave a quick nod before refocusing on Strider, who continued the conversation in Elvish.

"Stay yassen i' Periannath, amin'll send rokko ten' lle." _Stay with the Hobbits, I'll send horses for you._

The Elven woman objected. "Amin'm faster rider, amin'll sana ho." _I'm the faster rider, I'll take him._ At this, Inconnu held in a smirk as Sverundr snorted. She was more than certain that she herself was the fastest rider in this small group. That was yet to be tried however, and her range of motion for her right side was limited by the wound, which stung to remind her if its presence. It would have to be treated but for now Inconnu would work through the pain as it came. Strider then let his hand gently brushed against the Elven woman's, and Inconnu raised an eyebrow faintly at the gesture but did not say a word as he said, "i' malle' naa too dangerous." _The Road is too dangerous._

"What are they saying?" Pippin asked Merry in a hushed tone, but Merry shrugged in reply. The Elven woman replied in reassuring tones to Strider, "Manka amin can get thar i' duin ie' i' amin gwaith will vara ho." _If I can get across the river the power of my people will protect him._ Then she switched to the common tongue of Westron. "I do not fear them." They looked into each other's eyes and Inconnu could tell that there was definitely a history between the two of them, and it appeared that the Elven woman won when Strider relented.

"Stay varna." _Stay safe._

Strider backed away as the Elven woman mounted her white horse and turned the steed to face the path that headed east to Rivendell. Inconnu then said in a tone that demanded attention and respect, "Amin will soora close behind vee' lle ride, ikotane lle will il- elea amin. Amin will deter i' Nazgûl manka amin can iire i' coiasira naa right." _I will follow close behind as you ride, though you will not see me. I will deter the Nazg_ _û_ _l if I can when the time is right._ The Elven woman gave a nod and looked to Strider, who gave the last words.

"Arwen, ride hard. Don't look back!" And with this, the Elven woman who Inconnu know knew as Arwen, rode off into the night.

"What are you doing?! Those wraith's are still out there!" Yelled Sam with worry thick in his voice. Inconnu turned her head to reply to the Hobbit, "Of course they are, but they won't be following her for long!" With this, Inconnu spurred Sverundr into the path and vanished into the shadows of the forest.

_**Three Days Later** _

Arwen and Inconnu made quick time, moving much faster than those they left behind in the Trollshaws Forest. At this pace, Frodo stood a better chance at surviving his wound from the Witch-King. Speaking of such wounds, Inconnu's own reminder of her most recent encounter with the Lord of the Nazgûl flared again. She gritted her teeth, but pushed past it as she rode Sverundr in the shadows of the sparse trees, maintaining some form of cover from the ones that pursued Arwen.

 _There!_ Inconnu caught a glimpse of a black cloak, then of a black horse, and of another cloak! The Nine now have decided to appear it seemed, and the inner hunter of Inconnu burned with excitement. _The Witch-King must be close by._ The Nazgûl now fully reveal themselves as Arwen broke from the clumps of trees into a patch of spacious grassland. The Black Riders followed close, gaining with every passing yard. Inconnu spurred Sverundr into a hard gallop and caught up to the chase with ease.

Her sight changed slightly again, now able to more clearly see which rider was the prey she hunted. The Witch-King soon rode alongside Arwen's own horse and reached out to Frodo, intent on claiming the sickly Hobbit that was close to becoming one of his kind. Arwen veered her steed to the left, now going between the trees in quick turns in a smooth gait. The Witch-King screeched his frustrations and planned to urge his dark horse onward when Inconnu now revealed herself to all, shouting a name that suddenly came to her and in a language she had never truly spoken aloud in to others before now.

"Er-Murazor! Jiak dare lat avo caavch alnej!" _Er-Murazor! I dare you to catch me!_

This most certainly caught the Witch-King's attention, as she spoken in Black Speech, the tongue of Mordor and spoken by Sauron's servants. What had shocked him though was that Inconnu had said a name that had been forgotten even by the most detailed of histories: his true name. With a screech the wraith spurred his steed away from the chase to resume one that began all those months ago in Osgiliath. Inconnu, though also shocked with what she had said and by the tongue she spoke it in, grinned and gladly led the Witch-King away from the chase.

Together they raced away from real conflict, and with a quick glance behind her Inconnu's smile faded slightly when she only saw her prey chasing her. None of the others had followed, and so Inconnu hoped that Arwen would be able to at least handle them. After all she had lured away their most powerful member, their King. Unlike the chase that happened in Osgiliath, Inconnu let the wraith behind her gain some ground, not allowing Sverundr to truly outrace him. The Nazgûl realized the advantage, though not the fact of it being given to him, and he quickly drew up alongside her. He withdrew his longsword and made a swipe at her, intent in taking her head. Inconnu ducked, the blade missing her head by inches, and she retaliated by having Sverundr suddenly veer into the Witch-King's black horse, throwing it and its rider off-balance.

They crashed to the ground, loose dirt flying into the air and Inconnu leaped from her saddle and landed in a tight roll smoothly onto the ground. When she stood, though more pained from her wound, Inconnu ran to the where the Witch-King had fallen from his horse. A foreign instinct- no- intuition took over her mind. It was almost like when she had called out that name in Black Speech. The Witch-King, when she came upon him, was still and she assumed that he was still stunned from the fall. Inconnu carefully approached the prone figure, wary of anything that might happen in this encounter.

She was very right to be wary of the Witch-King, but she when she was crouching next to him nothing happened. _Is he unconscious? Can wraiths even lose consciousness?_ Inconnu certainly didn't know, but decided to take the apparent advantage she was seeing and slowly reached out a hand. Her fingers gently brushed the frayed edges of his hood, their coarse texture registered by the fingertips. Inconnu decided to let her fingers travel down the edge of the hood before moving them to hover above his chest. It was barely moving, reassuring her earlier thoughts that the Witch-King probably was unconscious. It was more likely at least.

When Inconnu's fingertips barely touched his chest, noting a chest plate underneath the layers of dark fabric, a sudden rush of movement found her wrist grabbed by a cold gauntlet and moved aside. The Witch-King was definitely _not_ unconscious. Inconnu was then shoved to the ground by him, his gauntlet still holding her wrist in an iron grip, and she grunted at the spike of pain in her wounded shoulder. His other gauntlet gripped her throat as he leaned over her, asserting his power and dominance in this change of the situation. Inconnu remained very still beneath him.

She took in shallow breathes though her mind began to faintly panic and wanted to demand deeper intakes of air. Inconnu ignored the urge and focused on the darkness of the Nazgûl King's hood, subconsciously looking for anything at all. Anything hidden within the shadows. Internally, Inconnu sighed as she was in a position that most would consider worse than death.

She was now at the mercy of the Witch-King.


	9. The Power of a Name

" _If the beginning of love was a flavor of ice cream, it would be Rocky Road." -FateMagician_

* * *

  _ **Near the River Bruinen (Loudwater)**_

The Witch-King, after a few moments of observing Inconnu, leaned closer to her face and spoke in a voice that could only be described as a hoarse baritone. "Nalkren do lat know avhaav name?" _How do you know that name?_

Inconnu gave no immediate reply, for she didn't even know the significance of the name she had spoken earlier, much less how she knew it. The Witch-King was extremely dissatisfied with her silence, and in expression of such dissatisfaction he clenched his hand tighter around her throat. At this Inconnu gasped softly for breath, but managed to reply in a calm tone.

"I don't know that name."

The Witch-King growled and now also spoke in the common tongue. "Yet you spoke it. How can you not know a name and speak it?"

Inconnu narrowed her gaze slightly and asked, "Why does it matter so much to one as yourself? What is the importance of this name?"

"It is a name that is lost, forgotten, and never was it to be remembered."

"A name that is your own?" She felt the wraith's grip on her throat loosen only slightly, but it was enough of a reaction for her. _So, it is his own. Why would he want his own name forgotten?_ As they continued to stare at each other, well, as best as one can stare into a hood of dark shadows-that gave her pause in her thoughts. _I haven't always seen him in shadow..._ Listening to her intuition, Inconnu then took as deep and even breaths as she could and focused on the Witch-King.

To her surprise and mild satisfaction, his image changed to where she saw the healthful man instead of a robed Nazgûl. Now she could look into dark eyes, realizing that they were a dark shade of brown. Those same eyes, which seemed to show and yet hide so much, widened noticeably when the Witch-King realized what she had just done. In his world of shadows, all others who were not Nazgûl were shades of little to no detail. This was the second time he had ever truly looked upon someone in this colorless world; the first having been the day he first came across this woman in Osgiliath.

Without any forethought, or perhaps through the control of some higher power, Inconnu lifted the hand that was not trapped by the Witch-King's iron gauntlet. To his surprise and shock, Inconnu caressed the side of his jaw with the back of her hand. A shudder went through both of them. They knew each other, but the Witch-King could not even begin to fathom just _how_ or _why_ this strange woman was familiar to him. This lasted only for a few moments longer before her hand no longer caressing but holding his jawline as to make sure he continued to look at her.

Then she said softly, "Your mind is your own Er-Murazor, just as my mind is my own." Now Inconnu pressed three of her fingers to his forehead. "My mind is yours, and with it I free your mind from the corruption."

Something broke within the Witch-King.

The sheer force of this sensation was enough to send him reeling back from Inconnu, slightly stumbling. Inconnu now took in the deep breathes her lungs had been begging for, and afterwards stood carefully. She watched as the Witch-King stood a few feet away, swaying faintly and it was clear he was staring at her intently. Inconnu could not discern any real emotion from his body language, but when the Nazgûl King made for his sword Inconnu made the same move and then their swords clashed.

The naked blades pressed against each other, neither wielder relenting. Inconnu used her other hand to keep her sword steady in the face of the Witch-King's sheer strength. Her wound began to burn and she bit the inside of her cheek to try and ignore that pain. They stared at each other before the wraith rasped in a harsh tone.

"What did you do?!"

She managed to grit out, "Just like your name, I do not know!"

The Witch-King shoved Inconnu back, making pain lance through her shoulder and she fell to the ground unable to keep her stance against him. He raised his blade in order to strike her down, but what he did not expect was for Sverundr to charge him. The large horse seemed to appear out of nowhere, despite the stallion's sheer size. He used this to his complete advantage as he stopped and reared right in front of the Nazgûl King, hooves striking the air above him.

This made the Witch-King stumble back, and Inconnu knew what Sverundr had in mind. As quickly was she was able to, she picked herself off the ground and dashed to her loyal friend. After leaping onto the saddle and gaining a grip on the reins, Sverundr bolted towards the Loudwater. Inconnu glanced back to see the rapidly shrinking image of the Witch-King. An unnaturally still figure of tattered shadow.

_**Imladris (Rivendell)** _

The dawn was breaking as Inconnu rode towards the main gates of Imladris, the city of Elves under the care of Lord Elrond. Sverundr walked at a sure pace, careful not to jostle his rider. Inconnu herself was incredibly tired, her head resting against Sverundr's thick mane. Whatever she had done to the Witch-King, it had an unforeseen drain on her- no, on her very _being_. Her soul. However, her fatigue prevented her from exploring deeper thoughts.

Sverundr then stopped, jolting Inconnu slightly but it was more than enough for her shoulder wound to remind her of its presence. She faintly groaned and a lithe figure suddenly entered her vision. Delicate fingers inspected the wound at her shoulder and Inconnu winced at the sting of the touch.

"Wanderer, sut an caela lle kware sina harwa?" _Wanderer, how long have you held this wound?_

It took Inconnu a minute to realize the soft, worried tones of the voice. _Arwen... I must be in Rivendell._ Longer did it take for her to respond to the question, "Lempe...Ithils." _Five...Moons._ It was then that Inconnu felt herself carefully dismounted from her saddle and lain carefully on a stretcher. More voices were heard but she could not truly discern them. Inconnu was very, very tired and darkness soon overcame her consciousness after she heard a male voice say a single word in a shocked tone.

"i-Varyanu..." _The Stranger..._

_**Several Hours Later, Elsewhere in Rivendell** _

The crescent moon of the autumn season was reaching its zenith as Gandalf seemingly wandered through the beautiful architecture that Imladris was renowned for. He took in a deep breath and exhaled, the clean, pure air giving all a sense of peace. This night was indeed one of serenity, but it also this night that the grey wizard sought out a particular source of wisdom.

Soft leather boots were heard only a short distance away, approaching where Gandalf rested against a pillar. From the soft shadows appeared a tall Elven male, clad in the garb of a lord and his hair as golden as the morning sun. The grey wizard greeted his guest with a friendly smile. "Glorfindel, my old friend. How long has it been?"

Glorfindel returned the smile. "Far too long. It is good to see you have made it safely to Imladris, despite the previous news of your troubles." To this, Gandalf gave a solemn nod before starting the true conversation he wished to hold with the Elven Lord.

"I have seen what was hidden within your account of the Fall of Angmar, though it was after our young wanderer had discovered what had been written."

Glorfindel sighed softly and he replied, "Yes, I have seen her." Silence held reign for a short while before Glorfindel said softly, "Inconnu Naeril... Her name sealed her fate."

Gandalf looked more closely at his companion in curiosity. "In what way?"

" _Inconnu_ is a word from an old and almost forgotten tongue meaning _Stranger_ or _Foreigner_ , and _Naeril_ is Sindarian for _Lamentable._ Reverse the order of those words and the phrase is..."

" _Lamentable Stranger_." Gandalf finished. "I can see what you mean now by the power of her name concerning her fate. But _lamentable_? What mother would affix such a description to her child's name?"

"I suspect the cause to be the child's fate. ' _Soon will come a stranger, her fate intertwined with his.'_ Together, the Witch-King and Inconnu Naeril share the same fate. He will soon learn of this, he does not already after their previous encounters. They have a connection that goes to a depth that even I cannot discern."

After a moment, Gandalf then asked of the golden-haired Elf, "You feel responsible for her?" Glorfindel looked to the grey wizard with a noticeable light of sorrow in his eyes.

"For her fate? In a way I do bear that responsibility. However, we both know that fate does what it will, and often we are but messengers of that will."

Gandalf gave a nod. "Will you talk to her? Converse about such a topic?"

"Perhaps, if such an encounter is meant to happen."

And for the rest of that autumn night the Hero of the First Age and the Grey Wizard spent the time in silence, the calm of Imladris affecting them.


	10. The Forms of Healing

_"Healing doesn't mean that the damage never existed. It means that the damage no longer controls your life." -Akshay Dubey_

* * *

  _ **The East Road**_

The Witch-King rode alone this night, and unlike those in Rivendell, peace eluded him. His hooded visage leaned forward as if nearly consumed by fatigue. This was partially true, though its cause was not the chase nor the encounter with the strange woman.

No, he was currently fighting an internal war, the only enemy being himself, and the strange woman was certainly the cause of this.

He didn't know what to think, or rather, there was simply too much to think about. Had she cast a spell on him? No. Despite its possibility, she had not spoken in any tongue of magic, only Westron. No magic was ever cast in the common tongue. What had she done to him? That was a question he could not answer, much less begin to speculate the why. This bothered the Witch-King quite a bit, and he thought on this until a very strange thought came into being.

_What is her name?_

Her name? Why did this matter to him? He, the Witch-King of Angmar, the Dreaded Captain of Sauron, should not- did not care to know the name of a woman. She didn't matter, she was insignificant to him entirely.

_Truly? Then why are you still thinking about her if she matters so little to you?_

The Witch-King's head jerked up, surprised at his own thoughts. Why indeed? The woman was, admittedly, interesting in many aspects and the first of her gender to face him in combat.

_And leave such meetings alive._

Yes, she still lived. A fact that made the Witch-King more than a little disgruntled. His thinking was soon cut short when he glanced up the road and saw the ruins of Amon Sûl. Memories then flooded his mind.

_He had finally broken the walls of the great watchtower, the last true defense of Arthedain from the Angmar Host. Orcs, Trolls, and corrupted Men flooded inside and he himself was not too far behind. His purpose was now to retrieve the palantír and deliver it to his master. Give him the advantage he needed to prepare for the war that leave him the conqueror of Middle Earth. Achieve what his former master, Morgoth, could not and reign as the Dark Lord._

_And the Witch-King would be there at Sauron's side, basking in his own great and terrible power._

_He scoured the battlements of the tower, killing all who stood in his way, and when he glanced outside from a massive hole in the walls he saw a cloaked rider racing across the plains to the north. In the rider's clutch was a bundle, and inside it the Witch-King sensed the power he sought._

_The Witch-King screeched in rage, the palantír was out of his grasp!_

The scenes of battle then abruptly faded, and the memory of a more recent duel took its place.

_The Hobbit before him was pitiful, unable to confront the death that was upon him much less hold onto his own blade. The Witch-King drew his dagger, cursed with the powers of Mordor, and prepared to strike at the small creature cowering before his might. However, something caught his attention at the very edges of his sight._

_The Witch-King could clearly see a woman of wild white hair, the same woman he had encountered in Osgiliath. Her reappearance in his existence was astounding but not as shocking as the fact they he could see her clearly. Nothing was that way outside of those who were also trapped with him in this Shadow World._

_However, he could not ponder on this revelation as he then thrust his dagger into the Hobbit, breaking the faint sense of the spell that had begun to weave around them._

His dark cowl shook slightly, shaking the lingering images from his mind.

_She could see you, see us, like no one else can. Are you not the least curious as to why that is?_

The Witch-King sighed internally. He could not deny his own logical thought on this point. This want, this sheer need, to know the answer to these questions was beginning to burn within him. He could not ignore this feeling- feeling?!

_Well now, this is definitely something new. Feeling something other than rage? Confusion seems to be more prominent at the moment. How about desire?_

Desire for what exactly? No, how could one woman hold so much of his attention?

_How about a desire to find out? Seek the answers!_

That would mean-

_-You would have to find her again. This woman with hair that shines like crystals of the purest white. Tell me, how willing are you to reach out a grasp the answers to these questions?_

The Witch-King halted his dark mount and glanced behind him, back down the East Road. She had led him away from the She-Elf and the Hobbit. The chase had not ended in victory, but with his brethren being washed down the River Bruinen by Elven magic. Though he might not have been there, he had sensed it and it would be a while before other eight fully recovered their strength.

It was more than likely that the strange woman rested in Rivendell now, recovering from her wounds. The Elven city was a place he could not enter easily, and not without severe consequences. However the great the odds were stacked against him, there were other ways. The desire to know her name, among the many other questions, suddenly flared within him again.

_How far are you willing to go to get what you seek?_

If his history of warfare were to amount to any sort of testament, it would say that the Dreaded Captain would go very far to achieve his objective.

_**Rivendell** _

The morning light crept softly and silently as Inconnu still slept soundly. It had been the first night of many in which she could now sleep deeply, gain true rest and collect herself. As she still remained in the grasp of unconsciousness, she was unaware of a small group of people entering her room.

This gathering consisted of Gandalf, Elrond and young Frodo as well. The Hobbit had insisted on seeing if the Huntress of the North was alright, as she had played an important part in saving him from the deadly leader of the Nazgûl.

And they were quite shocked that she still slept.

"It is now the second day she sleeps," Elrond said softly, as not to wake Inconnu. "Her wounds have healed now, though the scar that remains will always remind her of that night."

Absently, Frodo rubbed the spot on his own shoulder. It had scarred as well and he realized that both of them would always remember the Witch-King this way.

"Will she wake, Gandalf?" the young Hobbit asked the Grey Wizard. Gandalf took a long smoke of his pipe before he responded with surety, "She will wake Master Frodo. Our young huntress still has a destiny to fulfill; a hunt she still needs to complete."

"And complete it I will..." Came a quiet response, thick with sleep. The small group turned their focus to Inconnu, now in the beginning stages of consciousness as she finally woke up from her deep slumber. She carefully sat up, mindful of her shoulder, and yawned before looking at her visitors. Inconnu blinked rapidly to clear her sight, and when her grey gaze landed on Frodo she smiled warmly. "You look much better than when I last saw you. How's the shoulder?"

Frodo's blue eyes lit up and he gave a shy smile. "Better than it was before. Yours?"

Inconnu carefully rolled it before replying, "I can easily say the same thing."

"We were beginning to worry that wouldn't wake for some time, Inconnu Naeril."

Her gaze moved from the young Hobbit to the one who spoke, and Inconnu easily recognized the Lord of Imladris. Her head bowed in respect. "Lord Elrond, it has been some time."

Elrond faintly smiled. "It seems your concept of time still affects your judgement of its passing."

At this, Gandalf looked between the two with interest before asking, "How do you know each other?"

It was Inconnu who answered with, "I met him during the early years when I was starting to become known as 'The Huntress of the North'. He found me just as I was finishing a hunt."

"A pack of Orcs as I recall," Elrond continued. "It was a sight to see, and I had mistaken her for one of the Dûnedain. That changed quickly when I looked into her eyes and saw a wild nature no Dûnedain Ranger ever possessed."

Frodo looked between the much taller beings, more than a littlw confused as to what was really going on. Seeing the state of the Hobbit, Gandalf put a hand on Frodo's shoulder and leaned down a bit to say softly, "Why don't you go find Bilbo? I'm sure he would be delighted to know you're here."

The young Hobbit's eyes shone and he immediately dashed off to find his beloved uncle.

Now that the three of them remained, silence reigned for the long moments it had conquered before Inconnu asked, "Am I correct in assuming that you both know of the second part of Glorfindel's prophecy?" Gandalf and Elrond shared a look before the Elven Lord responded in a careful tone, "We do know this; your fate is tied to Witch-King's and only you have the power to give him the ultimate redemption, or his ultimate demise. From the look in your eyes I see you have made your choice as to which you wish to give him."

Gandalf also looked into Inconnu's grey gaze and saw the same thing. He then asked, "And what have you chosen to be the Witch-King's fate?"

"Redemption. Not long ago I had a dream in which I met a hunter greater than myself, and through his wisdom I made my decision." Her tone was sure and firm in her decision. Unwavering of the path she wished to walk. Another look was shared between Gandalf and Elrond at the mention of this 'greater hunter'.

"You speak of Oromë?" Inquired Gandalf, and Inconnu gave a single nod in answer.

Elrond sighed faintly."It seems that the Valar are watching these events unfold. Watching to see how Glorfindel's prophecy will complete itself. These are going to be trying times, and this shall be more thoroughly discussed later in the day. This, and what to do with the One Ring."

Inconnu shuddered at the mention of the One Ring. "Such darkness is here, Lord Elrond?"

"Yes though it cannot stay, as I have said to you earlier." The last part of that sentence was directed at Gandalf, who took another smoke from his pipe. Elrond looked back to Inconnu as he continued. "Tomorrow we are to have a council, representatives from each of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth are arriving as we speak."

"The topics to be the One Ring and the fate of the Witch-King." Inconnu murmured. "Yes, I understand and I will have to be there for the discussion of the Witch-King."

Gandalf made another puff. "You are integral to the prophecy after all. It would be rather rude not to invite you, would it not?"

Inconnu grinned as she replied, "Yes, it would be rather rude."

The Grey Wizard chuckled and glanced to Elrond. "I believe we need to feed our guest Lord Elrond. With so much sleep after such an adventure, I am sure she has an appetite to rival a Dwarfs!"

Elrond raised an eyebrow before shaking his head lightly. "I will retain my doubts on your prediction, old friend."

And with that last bit of banter, Gandalf and Elrond politely left as to let Inconnu have some privacy to prepare herself for that morning's meal. When the door had softly closed, Inconnu sighed very softly. She had regained much of strength after such a long sleep, despite the faint beginning of hunger pains, but her remaining fatigue lay within her soul.

_What did I do to the Witch-King? What made him react in such a way to what I had said?_

These were very good questions, but her intuition told her that it would be some time before she was privy to their answers. Releasing a deep yawn and softly stretching her arms, she prepared herself.

Soon she was looking much more presentable after donning her usual attire. It was dressed down however, just her tunic, breeches, boots and her favored sword at her side. She had little to worry about here in Rivendell as she was among friends. The danger was barred by Elven magic and the River Bruinen. Her sword remained at her waist, though, as her hunter's instincts demanded that she never be caught defenseless, no matter the situation.

When Inconnu exited her room, she found only Lord Elrond awaiting her.

"Where is Gandalf?" She asked as she joined him in walking through the Elven halls comprised of elegant architecture.

"He went ahead to let the others know of your awakening. I am sure your companions are eager to see you." He replied smoothly, and no further inquiries were made as they simply enjoyed their walk to the hall where breakfast was being served. Passing under an arch, the sounds of revelry and excited chatter were better heard, and the smells of breads and fruits now properly assaulted her nose.

"Inconnu?!" Came the shocked, deep tones of a voice belonging to a man she believed was still in Minas Tirith. She turned her head to face the owner of that voice, and she smiled brightly.

"Boromir!"


	11. A Discussion of Fate

" _The price of greatness is responsibility." -Winston Churchill_

* * *

 For few moments, Inconnu and Boromir stared at each other before the Captain of Gondor made his way to her and greeted her with a warrior's clasp. He too had a grin upon features as he asked, "A pleasure to meet you again Inconnu, and so soon, but what brings you here to Rivendell?"

Inconnu broke the clasp as he did before replying, "My travels led me along the North-South Road, bringing me fairly close to Bree, and it was then that I began a hunt and it is because of such an endeavor that I am here, healed from a recent injury."

At this, Boromir glanced at the shoulder which had been injured. "I have heard of your wound, though I have not been told as to how the injury was gained, nor who gave it."

Inconnu was touched by his concern for his welfare, and sought to alieve it by saying, "A tale for another time, and the injury is nothing but a memory written upon my skin."

"Still, a woman should not have to bear such scars."

Boromir did not say this to be offensive, but as a remaining branch from his tree of concern. Inconnu knew this as well, but the words still affected her sense of pride as a hunter, and she certainly let him know. Passively of course.

"A woman I may be, Boromir son of Denethor, but I am not less and I bear far more many scars than the one etched across my shoulder. They are a testament to my prowess as a hunter and my ability to survive in even the harshest environments of the Hithaeglir."

Boromir quickly apologized, and attempted to smooth things over.

"My greatest apologies Huntress, it was not my intention to challenge your honor."

He glanced at the table, where already they were gaining an audience to this encounter. Then Boromir held out a hand to Inconnu politely and asked, "May I escort you to the table for breakfast, as I am sure after your long sleep hunger must be making itself well known."

Accepting his apology, Inconnu placed her hand in his, letting his escort her to an empty seat and pulling out her chair for her. Once the other formalities were seen to, Inconnu looked about the table to see the hobbits, with the exception of Frodo, as well as Strider who held her gaze a few moments longer before greeting her.

"I see you are well rested Wanderer."

Inconnu, on closer inspection, saw that the Dûnedain ranger still held suspicion of her despite her words within the Trollshaws. She was well and truly on their side against the dark forces that appeared to gathering is substantial number in Mordor, however her hunt for the Witch-King still had precedence in her mind.

Inconnu hoped that, as a kind of hunter himself, that Strider might understand the hunt. Her reasons for commencing that hunt... that remained to be seen. Her reply was gracious, but still retained a neutral tone.

"I am, thank you. You seem better rested as well."

A calm nod was his response, and Inconnu also noticed the curious looks from Merry and Pippin. They continued to try and get the other to do something, most likely concerning her. After a few silent, yet heated moments, Pippin gave in and faced her fully before asking, "So... where do you come from if you're a wanderer?"

_So they're still curious about myself._

Inconnu had no issues answering their questions between bites of her meal. "I was actually born in Osgiliath."

"You chose to become a wanderer?"

Inconnu faintly grimaced, but it went unnoticed by the others at the table.

"That I did. My mother was the only thing keeping me in Osgiliath, and after she died...I left."

Merry joined in with his own question. "You willingly left home so easily?"

"I would have found it quite difficult to leave if I tried to when my mother was still alive. However, when she was no longer among the living I found myself giving into wanderlust and simply couldn't stay after I buried her," She paused in that thought before continuing with, "Speaking of Osgiliath..." Inconnu looked to Boromir, who had seated himself to her left. "How does it fair in the months since I've last seen it?"

Boromir, to her surprise, replied gladly, "I retook it later in the same month you left Minas Tirith. We drove off the Morgul Host and have since managed to hold the city."

"And the state of the city?"

Now the Captain of Gondor looked more sorrowful. "Sadly, we took back ruins. Osgiliath is only a shadow of its former glory. It's haunting really."

Inconnu tilted her head to the side slightly. "You took the city back so easily?"

"Well, with the normal difficulties of fighting any battle of course."

"Normal difficulties? Were the Nazgûl no longer present in the city? Osgiliath is a very strategic position, I doubt the Nazgûl would let such an advantage go so easily."

The atmosphere noticeably darkened, and Boromir found himself grasping at words in the face of Inconnu's sound reasoning. "No... the foul creatures did not make an appearance on the battlefield."

Strider saw fit to join in.

"Perhaps they believed Osgiliath to no longer be the advantage they wanted."

Inconnu met his gaze and in the same calm tone replied, "Perhaps something of greater importance required their full attention. Attention they could not spare in order to keep the city."

The three of them glanced between them and each gave a quick nod that went unnoticed by the three Hobbits. They had an understanding now. Inconnu then asked Boromir, "Who guards Osgiliath in your stead?"

A truly happy and proud smile graced his features. "Faramir does. Like you said to me many months ago, he is a survivor."

Inconnu smiled in return.

"I am glad to hear of his survival."

From there, breakfast concluded fairly quickly and Inconnu excused herself politely with, "If you don't mind, I would like to check up on my friend."

"Friend?" asked Merry, and Inconnu smiled brightly when she simply replied, "Sverundr, my greatest companion."

With that, Inconnu left the small gathering and made her way through the flowing halls until she came across the stables. They were located on the outer edge of Rivendell, and were no less elegantly designed in comparison to the rest of the city, and was just as functional. Due to his large size, the grey stallion was very easy to find and Sverundr nickered at Inconnu's arrival. Still wearing that smile, Inconnu rubbed his large nose in fond greeting.

"I see the Elves have been taking good care of you while I've been napping."

Sverundr stared her down with his large brown eye, stating very clearly that he was not fooled by her light take of her previous situation. Inconnu faintly sighed. "I know, but at I'm all better now. Just another scar to the collection."

He snorted again and turned his head to nudge against her playfully. This elicited a small laugh from Inconnu, and she continued while petting his thick mane.

"I find it strange, these encounters with the Witch-King. Strange that I can see what he was before, but all anyone else can see is who he is now. A king of men fallen to a king of wraiths, though I suspect that he himself does not view it as a downfall."

Sverundr nudged her shoulder when her hand stopped its motions, Inconnu almost lost in her thoughts. She resumed, but her thoughts still strayed as she talked to her closest friend. "I know what I did to him now, in some sense if I were to judge my words alone. Freed his mind, his thoughts, that had been dictated by dark desires from Sauron's will. Do I understand it? Not well, though I am sure that I will soon enough."

Another pause in her words, her thoughts drifting to a question with great emotional consequence. Sverundr raised his head and snorted lightly, resulting in the success of her focus returning to him.

Her grey eyes were a little watery, and it was easy for anyone to see at that moment the conflict that raged within her soul. The stallion became concerned for the welfare of his rider and nickered, resting his head gently on her shoulder in the way to express a hug. Inconnu's eyes watered more and she wrapped her arms around Sverundr's neck to return to gesture.

"I... I have never thought to experience this," She managed to choke out faintly "never could I have imagined having to face a matter of the heart. Never could I have thought to have a soulmate..."

A few tears began to stream down her cheeks, her bare emotions more so visible.

"Oromë may have said that the Witch-King and I are destined, our fates written in the stars themselves, but they crossed Sverundr? Intertwined as we are, I cannot love the creature he is and I am afraid that I may not find a place in my heart for the man he once was. The man he may become again if I am able to free his heart and soul from the Dark Lord's might. What-" Inconnu now buried her face in the stallion's mane.

"What else can I do but fear not only for him but my heart as well?"

"Have patience and wait for him." A warm voice somewhere behind her made itself known, and Inconnu turned her head slightly to better look at the newcomer, who was dressed in fine Elven clothes and whose hair could be mistaken for strands of light gold. His words were soothing, and she listened as he spoke.

"You are burdened greatly with such a responsibility over the fate of the Witch-King of Angmar, but you are not alone with such burdens."

The Elven lord approached, though with a hint of caution as Sverundr eyed him, as he continued with, "In time the Lord of the Nazgûl may find himself burdened with a great many things, and among them he might carry the weight of your heart."

Inconnu stepped back from Sverundr to better face the Elven lord, breaking the hug, but she remained close to her friend as she addressed him. "And who are you, might I ask? You know much of fate, my own and the Witch-King's, though we have never met before."

His eyes then held a glint of sorrow as he replied, "I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Hero of the First Age and the one who bears some -if not all- of the responsibility for both your fate and the Witch-King of Angmar's."

Inconnu's eyes widened in shock, stunned by his identity.

"You're the one who gave the prophecy..."

"Yes, and I am sorry for the woe it has caused you. Some things we can foresee but oftentimes the details of the consequences elude us."

Inconnu took a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders releasing, and she replied calmly, "I understand, though I do not blame you for all my troubles," She smiled faintly "I have made more than enough of it by my own doing, intentionally or otherwise. I could not dictate my mother's thoughts and actions, nor have I ever wished to do so." Now the smile was grim. "If I ever held such thoughts, I would be no better than Sauron in his lust for power and dominance over those he sees as lesser."

At her words, Glorfindel smiled. "I now better understand why you were chosen by the Valar to be the Witch-King's soul half. You are what he needs most desperately if he is to return to the world of light. Over two-thousand years ago I would have found the possibility of his redemption an impossible feat, even when I gave the prophecy I retained my doubts. But after meeting you, Inconnu Naeril... no longer do I find it so impossible."

He closed the remaining distance between them and held out his hand to her as he continued with, "If there is anyone who can free the man from the creature the Witch-King has become, it is you."

Inconnu's smile returned and she grasped his arm in the warrior's clasp. Not a moment later, a servant arrived, a young elven woman, and she greeted them.

"Pardon my intrusion Lord Glorfindel, Huntress." She now fully addressed Inconnu with her next statement. "Lord Elrond bid me to guide you to where the council shall take place."

Inconnu released Glorfindel's forearm and gave a short nod to the servant before saying goodbye to the Elven lord and following the servant to where Elrond's council would take place. Inconnu now hoped that other's like Glorfindel would provide support for saving the Witch-King not only from Sauron's grip, but also to bring him back to the world of life.


	12. The Council of Elrond

" _Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness." -Desmond Tutu_

* * *

 The young Elven woman led her up a shaded staircase and when they were at the top she gestured to a side corridor and left quietly. After taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Inconnu turned the corner and was greet by an open architecture that made the somewhat small area feel much more spacious.

In a half circle were nineteen seats, filled with representatives for each of the races of Middle Earth, facing a more ornate chair where Lord Elrond would sit as he was currently standing. In front of him was a pedestal of a cream colored stone. Lord Elrond caught her gaze and gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and Inconnu relaxed further and remained in the shadow of the pillar next to her, content to lean against it.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old." Lord Elrond greeted to all those gathered for this council.

"You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction." His tone became more serious, emphasizing the danger of the coming events.

"You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom."

Lord Elrond now looked to young Frodo, who was nervous as he sat in his seat. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Now he sat in his chair, taking a glance at everyone before setting his gaze on Frodo once more. Frodo collected himself as he walked over to the pedestal, withdrawing from his pocket a simple gold ring and placing it on the stone before quickly returning to his seat. The young Hobbit sighed and relaxed more in his seat, closing his eyes. Inconnu smiled softly in sympathy.

_It can't have been easy for him to carry the One Ring, however briefly that time was._

Many of those present eyed the Ring with suspicion and when Inconnu looked to Boromir, she saw a glint in his eyes as he put a hand to his mouth as he said, "So it's true."

The other now looked to him as he continued. "In a dream I saw the Eastern sky grow dark," Boromir now stood and slowly made his way to the Ring "in the West a pale light lingered, a voice crying, 'Your doom is near at hand!'" He kept walking towards the pedestal as he went on. "Isildur's Bane is found."

Lord Elrond looked to Gandalf, each sharing a concerned look as Boromir now reached out to the Ring saying, "Isildur's Bane."

Now Elrond leaped to his feet and said in warning, "Boromir!"

Suddenly the sky darkened and Inconnu's grey gaze whipped to Gandalf, whose presence became much for formidable. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to a standing position when the wizard then spoke in the black tongue of Mordor.

"Ash nazg durbatul'k, ash nazg gimbatul."

One of the dwarves shouts in fright as Gandalf stands from his seat, Boromir backing away from the pedestal towards his own.

 _"_ Ash nazg thrakatul'k, _"_

Lord Elrond now held his head in pain, as if the tongue Gandlaf spoke in, physically hurt him. Another of the Elves, one with fine white-blond hair and vastly different from his darker-haired companions, was grimacing as well as Gandalf went on.

 _"_ Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul _."_

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_

_One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them._

Inconnu, unlike many of the other representatives, remained unaffected by the utterance of Black Speech and when Gandalf was done the skies cleared and the sun once again shined upon them all. Boromir had now sat down in his seat, nearly collapsing into it. Lord Elrond himself held the features of both shock and anger, and his words reflected such emotions.

"Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris."

"I do not ask your pardon Master Elrond," the grey wizard replied unapologetically "for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West."

Gandalf now met the gaze of everyone present, meeting Inconnu's a few moments longer before retuning his own to Lord Elrond.

"The Ring is altogether evil." He now took his seat once more. Boromir shook his head. "Aye, it is a gift!" He stood once again, continuing his train of thought. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?"

Boromir walked around now, addressing everyone, and as he went on Inconnu grew more worried.

"Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the _blood_ of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him."

"You think to use an object _infused_ with Sauron's very essence?" Inconnu's low tones were caught by all those present, making her presence in this council known.

A few whisperings began, but Inconnu ignored them as she continued, her tone never relenting.

"Do you not see the very foolishness of this idea Boromir, son of Denethor? This Ring has corrupted many, brash yet cunning in its destruction of men. Are you not able to acknowledge that there is no advantage in bringing it to Gondor?"

Boromir looked at her in shock, but before he could say anything Strider spoke calmly, "She is right, you cannot wield it. None of us can."

The Captain of Gondor now faced Strider as he continued with,

"The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir retaliated harshly. "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

The Elven male with the white-gold hair stood and defended Strider. "This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Boromir's expression was full of disbelief. "Aragorn! This... is Isildur's heir and heir to the throne of Gondor..."

Inconnu smiled softly to herself as he remembered first meeting Strider, now revealed as Aragorn.

_So this is the other name you carry, one with great burdens._

Aragorn now held up a hand to the white-golden haired Elf and said calmly, "Havo dad, Legolas." _Sit down, Legolas._

The Elf, Legolas as he was now known to Inconnu, sat down and Boromir said to him, "Gondor has no king," before facing Aragorn to say disdainfully "Gondor needs no king."

Boromir now sat in his seat once again, his foul mood more than fully recognized. Gandalf quickly put the conversation back on course. "Aragorn and Inconnu are right, we cannot use it."

Lord Elrond stood once more as well, grateful for Gandalf's words, and said, "We only have one choice."

He eyed everyone present, Inconnu included this time around.

"The Ring must be destroyed."

One of the Dwarves at this moment stood and said, "Then what are we waiting for?" before hefting his axe, approaching the pedestal and bringing it down upon the One Ring in a mighty swing.

Suddenly a vision of an eye wreathed in flames appeared in Inconnu's mind before vanishing just as quickly as it came. Inconnu staggered slightly, the sheer force of the vision nearly overwhelming her with Sauron's dark presence.

Once she steadied herself she looked up to see the Dwarf flat on the ground, the pieces of his shattered axe scattered around the pedestal. Looking at the Ring, Inconnu saw that it remained in one piece, not even a speck of dust marring its golden surface.

However, what unsettled her more was the whispering of Black Speech emanating from the Ring. Then the words of Lord Elrond then cut through the Ring's utterances, bringing relief to all present.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."

The Ring's whisperings returned, though it faded away as Lord Elrond continued. "One of you... must do this."

Silence filled the area with a heavy presence, though only moments later Boromir broke it.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the great eye is ever watchful. Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this."

He shook his head before finishing with, "It is folly."

Legolas jumped to his feet again and protested. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli retaliated, and Boromir replied to Legolas, "And if we fail, then what?" The Captain of Gondor once again rises from his seat. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

At this the other elves stand to back up Legolas, the men do the same for Boromir, and soon everything escalate into a heated argument, Aragorn and Inconnu excluded. Inconnu stared at the scene, shocked at how quickly everything was caving into chaos. However, young Frodo then strived to make himself heard above the riled emotions of those so much larger than himself.

"I will take it!"

His words were not heard by anyone else other than Inconnu, who stared at the Hobbit in shock, and so he then shouted again, "I will take it!"

Now Gandalf had heard Frodo, and he closed his eyes in sorrow as Frodo went on with, "I will take the Ring to Mordor!"

Now everyone stopped their arguing and also looked at him in shock and awe. The young Hobbit was fidgeting faintly under the gazes of the representatives, but found the courage to say, "Though, I do not know the way."

"I will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

Gandalf now stood behind the young Hobbit, and Aragorn then said as he stood from his seat, "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. The ranger now knelt in front of Frodo.

"You have my sword."

Gandalf looked to Lord Elrond, a smile plain on his features, and Lord Elrond returned it. Legolas now joined the forming group, saying, "And you have my bow."

Gimli grimaced and said, "And my axe." before joining as well.

Boromir eyed the group hesitantly, though only for a moment before said, "You carry the fate of us all little one." He now walked towards the group. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

Suddenly a Hobbit burst from the bushes, quickly recognized as Sam, as he stopped at Frodo's side, saying, "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

Lord Elrond looked amused, replying, "No indeed, as it seems that it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not!"

A voice now cried out, "Wait! We're coming too!"

Pippin and Merry now rushed from behind a pillar to join the group, passing by an astonished Lord Elrond. Merry looked up at him and said firmly, "You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission... quest...thing." Pippen added a little awkwardly and Merry retorted, "Well that rules you out Pip."

Lord Elrond looked at the group of nine as they stood together, and in this time Frodo snuck a look at Inconnu, his blue eyes hopeful that she would perhaps join them. Inconnu's features were neutral, as she refused to make a definitive answer.

She did not know what choice she would make, but she did know that her hunt for the Witch-King was her priority now. Frodo's gaze quickly changed focus to Lord Elrond, who now spoke. "Nine companions... so be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

"Great!" Pippin cut in "Where are we going?"

Inconnu was not the only who gave a soft, exasperated sigh. Lord Elrond now addressed the other representatives, relieving them from the Council and soon, only himself, the Fellowship, and Inconnu remained in the clearing. With the exception of Gandalf, the Fellowship looked at her in confusion and question. Lord Elrond mercifully broke the silence for Inconnu's sake.

"There is one more topic I wish to discuss in this Council, and saw it fit only for the ears of this Fellowship. Inconnu, come and stand with us."

His words sounded both like a request and an order, and Inconnu complied easily as she stepped into the sunlight. Legolas' bright blue eyes widened as he then asked, "What brings the Wanderer of the Misty Mountains so far south?"

Inconnu turned her grey gaze on him, calmly replying, "A hunt of a purpose nearly as grave as the destruction of the One Ring," Her eyes flickered to Frodo before she continued. "Yet I am seeking to redeem rather than destroy the one I hunt."

It was Aragorn now who spoke, his tone not accusing, surprising her.

"When we first met you told me you were hunting the Nazgûl. Once we leapt to defend the Hobbits at Weathertop you went straight for the one who led them."

He paused, allowing the rest of the Fellowship catch on to the implications of his words, and only Gandalf was the exception as he already knew.

"You hunt the Witch-King of Angmar. You seek to redeem the Black Captain of Sauron."

Inconnu gave a solemn nod, catching the wide-eyed looks from Legolas, Gimli, Boromir and the Hobbits. Frodo especially, and it was mixed with a bit of hurt. He then voiced those emotions, still in shock. "But Inconnu, he harmed us both with his blades and nearly killed you again only two days ago. How can a creature that evil be saved?"

The same question on the minds of the rest of the Fellowship, and Inconnu's eyes glanced at both Gandalf and Lord Elrond, seeking their wisdom. Each gave her the same brief nod and after a faint intake of breath Inconnu spoke. This time her voice held the tone of one in a kind of trance, yet her emotions were more plain to see as well.

"The Witch-King of Angmar is indeed a creature of great evil Frodo. He is Sauron's greatest servant, the leader of the Nine and the ruthless commander of the Morgul Host."

She now addressed everyone with her words. "None of you are wrong in your perceptions of him, yet neither are each of you able to see all that is there. 'Beneath the corruption of the One Ring-a dark power that has tainted his mind, heart and soul-he's still there. The corruption is thick, a great prison of greed and power, but inside that cage is a man of honor who wants to be free."

Repeating Oromë's words filled Inconnu with more courage to defend the Witch-King to the Fellowship, as well as fill her with greater hope for his redemption.

"That man is still in there, waiting to be freed and I am the one to give him that chance."

Unlike Aragorn's tone, Boromir's hinted at accusation. "And why are you the one to do this? Why do you try to redeem a creature that has been the bane of men for thousands of years?"

"Because my soul is akin to his. My fate forever intertwined with his own." Inconnu replied, hurt by Boromir's implications that she herself was no longer on the side of the light though she did let it show in her own words.

The shock was plain one everyone's faces, Gandalf and Lord Elrond no exception to this revelation. They had no idea how deep the connection ran even with the knowledge of the second half of Glorfindel's prophecy. This changed much, however the other members were unware of the second half, Legolas voicing this confusion.

"How is that possible? Nothing mentions the existence of the Witch-King's soul half, not even Glorfindel's prophecy."

It was Gandalf who addressed the confusion, leaving Inconnu relieved of having to do it.

"Glorfindel's prophecy concerning the Witch-King's fate does indeed speak of his soul half, though not in such plain wording. He had concealed the second half, hiding it so it could one day be discovered by the one it spoke of."

Surprisingly, it was Sam who spoke next, meeting Inconnu's gaze unwaveringly as he said, "It was you who discovered it."

Inconnu gave a single nod and repeated the words she had found months ago deep in the library of Minas Tirith.

"' _Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy.'"_

The words gave off the sense of finality, and none present could argue their truth. Silence overcame the gathering, each thinking their own thoughts for several long moments before Frodo stepped forth to stand closer to Inconnu. Another long moment passed as he looked into her grey eyes with his own blue ones, gathering the courage to then ask, "Do you really think you can save him?"

_Are you my friend?_

Was the unasked one, yet still resounded within Inconnu. She exhaled through her nose softly, a warm smile gracing her features. Inconnu then did as Aragorn did earlier, getting down on one knee so she was level with young Frodo. Her voice was as warm as her smile now, the underlying tones soothing in her reply. "Yes, I do believe I can redeem the Witch-King Frodo. Just as much as I believe that you can destroy the One Ring."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, its grip reassuring as she continued, "We carry great burdens, you and I, but that does not mean that we must bear them alone."

Inconnu glanced and everyone else before refocusing on Frodo.

"I may not be a part of this Fellowship of the Ring but I am its ally until the very end, yet more importantly Frodo," Her smile widened a faction "I am your friend, and would be honored if you considered me as such."

The eyes of the young Hobbit watered, unnoticed to all but Inconnu as he whispered, "Thank you, and I do think of you as my friend."

Still smiling, Inconnu gave his shoulder another reassuring squeeze before standing once again. She met the gaze of Lord Elrond and the others of the Fellowship. "I will go on this quest with you until as such time comes that we must part, whether because of death or my own hunt takes a new direction."

When no one protested, Lord Elrond's voice wove through the air and was as finalizing as the words of Glorfindel's prophecy.

"So be it."


	13. Midnight Truths

" _Midnight, strange mystic hour, when the veil between the frail present and the eternal future grows thin." -Harriet Beecher Stowe_

* * *

 It was now the night of the day after the Council of Elrond, and in the darkening hours Inconnu found herself restless. Sleep eluded her this night and she could not figure as to why that was. The Fellowship of the Ring would leave in the early hours of the dawn and Inconnu would be leaving with them. She wanted rest, but something kept nagging at her from the very corners of her consciousness. The only thing Inconnu did know was that she had to go somewhere, a specific place, but she knew not where she had to be.

Inconnu now closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, held it in for a few moments, and then released it. After several centuries of dealing with wanderlust, one might think that Inconnu was quite used to being led around by a force greater than her own will.

In all truth she was familiar with it, however that did not mean she had to enjoy it most days. Opening her eyes again, Inconnu gave in to the feeling and followed where it wanted to lead her.

The path she took led her to the outskirts of Rivendell, then through the outlying forests. Inconnu narrowed her gaze slightly, a strong sense of déjà vu filling her subconscious. _I rode through here once, though I barely remember._

She continued to walk along a path nearly overgrown due to its disuse, and the stars could barely be seen through the thick cover of leaves. The moon itself was also hidden but tonight it was full, the strength of its light filtered through the leaves making spots of moonlight along the path. Inconnu used it as a guide to keep to her newfound trail and noticed how the light and shadows played with each other.

Soon the sound of gurgling water reached her ears, and by her estimate she was close to the font of the River Bruinen. Inconnu picked up her pace, becoming eager to see what would await her at the place where the Loudwater sprung forth from the earth.

Even with her quickened stride it took her some time to reach the intended destination of her wanderlust, and when she did finally break through the trees, what she saw stunned her.

She was at the very edges of a clearing, and though it wasn't very large due to the pile of massive rocks it made quite the impression. From several openings in the rocks themselves flowed a sheer waterfall over the rocks, cascading down them until they pooled into a stream that, when followed, would become the River Bruinen.

The moon's light filled the area, lighting up everything it touched and giving the water a soft white glow. This was a beautiful place filled with the same calm as Imladris, though stronger, and Inconnu couldn't help but relax her guard to take it all in. This was the most relaxed she had been in centuries.

But it was a mistake to let her guard down so much when a long blade made to rest at the side of her neck. Then a familiar voice, deep in tone with hints of resonant hollowness, spoke from behind her.

"Baj anausan movemnav agh lat mat." _Make any movement and you die._

Inconnu complied, remaining very still but she would not be silenced, lightly snapping at him. "Do not speak your master's tongue here Er-Murazor!" She heard the metal of his gauntlet clench his sword, but continued nonetheless. "We stand in a place of peace, a clearing that has remained undisturbed for millennia it seems. I will not have this font of life violated by your master's ways."

Silence. Cold, unfeeling silence enveloped the two of them as the Witch-King kept his blade at her neck. Inconnu's hand itched to draw her own weapon, but she didn't. The same feeling that told her to shout his name during the chase and to caress his jaw only a few days before told her not to.

Instead of reaching for her sword she lifted her hand up carefully, lightly placing two fingers on the edges of his blade. Throughout all this the Witch-King made no move to keep his earlier threat, giving Inconnu more confidence as she dared to move the blade away from her neck.

He did nothing to stop her, his arm giving way to small amount of force she applied.

Inconnu's fingers now lowered the blade, only stopping when its tip slightly dug into the ground. She allowed herself to release her breath after she stepped away from the Witch-King. The silence still remained when she turned to face him. He was unnaturally still as they looked at each other, and Inconnu did not know how to break the silence between them.

His sword was limp at his side. Another breath, another, and the moments felt like small eternities until his voice echoed from within the darkness of his hood. This time he spoke in Westron. "What did you do to me?"

Inconnu sighed faintly before replying, "My answer has not changed since our last meeting. I truly do not know; I barely understand the nature of the words I spoke to you."

The Witch-King took a step closer and in reaction Inconnu took a step back. She may be destined to save him, but that did not mean that she was going to completely trust him at this point of time. He needed to earn that. The Witch-King made no further movements as he said, "Then you must know the _why_. You would not have acted if you had no reason, no motivation!"

Now he took a step toward her again, emphasizing his next words.

"No incentive."

Another step, and Inconnu found she could not retreat from his advances.

His blade scraped across the ground, the metal occasionally nicking a rock. Minor screeches in reference to the ones of a Nazgûl. Then he was practically towering over her, even though there was still a step between them. Inconnu stared into the dark shadows of his hood, well aware that he was staring back. She knew in this moment that he would not take silence for an answer, nor would he accept any words synonymous with ignorance. Inconnu's reply was soft in tone.

"I did it because I want to save you."

This took the Witch-King aback. Of all the things she could have said, this was one he was not expecting. He could not have prepared himself for such a response, but was able to reply in an unaffected tone, " _Save_ _me?_ From what or whom do you wish to _save_ me?"

"Your fate." Inconnu said simply, and his next words held an underlying growl.

"My fate? I fear _nothing_ woman, least of all my fate. No man has faced me in mortal combat and lived. No man can. I know my _fate_."

Her lips curled into a small, knowing smile at his confidence, though it sounded to her more like arrogance. "Do you truly?"

He harshly gripped the hilt of his sword, each word said in a biting tone. "What do you say?"

"I say that you know only half of your fate, the part that gives you confidence in eternal victory and so fuels your pride. _'He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall.'"_

With this, Inconnu took a step forward to show the Witch-King that she would not be cowed by the great power granted to him by his master.

_"'Soon will come a stranger. Her fate intertwined with his, and by her hand either to redeem or destroy'"_

Her words were laced with a power that not even he could deny. It was truth, and as such it was a thing that he was bitter to accept. His blade's tip lifted an inch from the ground where it had rested as he replied, "Share the same fate? To redeem or destroy? Are you the one that shall fulfill such words?" Inconnu faintly nodded and he continued, "I would rid myself of much trouble then, ridding yourself of your head."

The Witch-King swung his sword into an upward slash, but Inconnu's reflexes reacted in time and her own blade met his only inches from her neck. Her eyes narrowed, her words chiding him, "You will do no such thing, not here, not in this place, nor will you ever be given the chance to end me. I have chosen to redeem you, to bring you back from the shadows and into the light. From what it seems I have already freed your mind from Sauron's. Your thoughts are your own, not his. Never again."

"My fate is of my own choosing!" He retaliated "What is to become of me is not of your concern!"

"Is that so?" Inconnu retorted, her tone nearly mocking "You have had no say in your fate, not after you accepted a ring from the Deceiver. No, you gave control of your fate to your master millennia ago. You no longer have a say in your fate Er-Murazor!"

"Cease to call me that name!" He shoved her away with his sword, forcing a fair amount of distance between them.

"It is yours nonetheless!" She yelled back, steady on her feet "I first gave you your very name back, a name once revered by men. Then I made your thoughts your own! No longer does your master dominate your mind, you are now the master of it!"

A long moment of silence filled the empty space between them before the Witch-King restated, "My fate is not of your concern woman, nor shall it ever be."

"You have no say in such!" She repeated "Our fates, our very souls, are inextricably tied to each other. In that same fashion, I also have no say."

"Walk away from this. What is to come will only lead to your destruction."

"If I did, then your destruction will be at the hands of another. "Her grey eyes watered, though it went unnoticed. "I simply cannot let that come to pass."

"Then you will die." His tone was cold, emotionless, and Inconnu's was hardened resolve.

"So be it."

Inconnu turned from him then, walking away from the clearing and back down the path to Imladris. Sleep was still needed for the events of the morning, yet she also needed to calm down after her encounter with the Witch-King.

_Time. Time is what he needs to accept all this, to understand. Yet he wants me to explain it, but how can I when I do not understand?_

She then stopped in her pace, looking up to find a break in the forest canopy. The soft moonlight highlighted her features, considered fine by many, and she closed her eyes.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inconnu may have walked away from him now, but she would be back. She would not give up on his fate. Her fate. Their fate.

**_Back at the Clearing_ **

The Witch-King's gauntlet upon the longsword gripped it much more harshly after the woman left the clearing. In a mighty swing, he whirled around and his blade scarred the closest tree.

 _Curse that woman!_ His thoughts, no, his pride clamored. _Damn her for daring to say such words to me!_

_Yes, how dare she tell you the truth._

The Witch-King growled, retaliating. _Get_ _out of my mind! I have humored this nonsense long enough!_

_I am unable to do that, and you have only "humored" your own whims._

Taken aback for the second time that night, he questioned the new thoughts of his mind. This wasn't him, it could not be.

 _Yet it is all the same. I_ am _you. This has always been so before the ring was ever gifted to us._

The truth the woman spoke now had a stronger bite, the wound only deepening. He trembled slightly, feeling the pain of it.

_She offers you a final chance for redemption. You recognize this, but why can you not accept it?_

The Witch-King was the master of his own fate!

_We both know the harsh, bitter truth of this particular lie._

He took in a ragged breath and looked up, barely seeing the moon in all its glory. The Witch-King could not really remember the life he had before this world of shadows, only pieces of emotions that had clung to him for thousands of years.

_Would you like to see the world in the light? The true light, not this mockery of it._

The Witch-King looked down again, his hidden gaze fixing on the deep cut in the tree before him, marring its white bark with black.

_You still don't know her name._

No, he certainly didn't know the name of the strange, defiant woman who promised his redemption.


	14. Start of an Adventure

" _Never fear quarrels, but seek hazardous adventures." -Alexandre Dumas_

* * *

 Despite the dire purpose of the Fellowship and darkness that was the One Ring in their possession, the dawn that morning in Rivendell came softly and brought warmth to all those within the great Elven city.

The Fellowship had yet to depart upon their quest, and in this time Inconnu was checking Sverundr's tack to ensure the greatest safety for both horse and rider. He would be one of the two horses that would come with the group, along with Aragorn's own gelding. Like the gelding, Sverundr would also carry supplies though not as much.

Then out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lord Elrond leaving from a well-kept garden. Even when surrounded by the peace of Imladris, Inconnu could sense the worry and tension that followed the great Elven Lord.

Her curiosity peaked, Inconnu handed Sverundr's reins off the nearby servant before following her instincts. They led her into the garden from which Lord Elrond departed, having her walk along a well worn dirt path until she came upon Aragorn. He stood before a statue of a woman, his hand caressing its cheek. Inconnu remained silent for a few moments before speaking out softly, "She's beautiful."

Aragorn did not turn in her direction, nor make any other indication that acknowledged her presence until his hand left the cheek of the statue. Now he turned his head slightly her way, saying in the same tone of quiet, "She was my mother. This is her memorial."

Inconnu's lips fell into a small smile. "My condolences then. I know the pain of losing a mother."

Aragorn turned to face her fully and said, "You mentioned your mother the morning you woke from your deep sleep."

"I did."

"What was she like?"

Inconnu was a bit surprised at the personal question he asked of her, but it brought her no troubles to talk about her mother.

"My mother was of pure Numenorian blood, pale of skin and with hair as black as a raven's feathers. She was a kind woman, never truly having a bad word to say to anyone. My mother was young when she had me, too young according to many, but she raised me well enough. There was always food on the table and she never punished me."

A small, melancholy smile appeared as she continued, "Though I was certainly put in my place by the mere knowledge of her disappointment whenever I did something she did not approve of."

Aragorn then voiced a small suspicion that came to his mind. "There was something else though, wasn't there?"

Inconnu gave a nod as she replied, "Yes, there was. My mother was always worried for my fate, though I did not understand that disquietness until only recently. Her apprehension was a constant presence in our home, ever behind every action and word that dealt with me. When I was younger I was ignorant of it, but as the years passed I grew to no longer be as such."

This struck a chord in Aragorn, and he sympathized with the Huntress of the North. His childhood has been somewhat similar to her own, their mothers both worried for the fate of their child, knowing what would become of them. He then asked, "Did she love you?"

Inconnu held back her words initially, nearly choking on them because of the hurt and sorrowful emotions that resurfaced in her heart. It took her a moment to calm down enough, though her head hung slightly, and managed to reply, "I know she did in her heart, after all she brought me into this world and cared for me until her dying day, but she never spoke such words to me even then. Just an apology for the fate I was born into."

A warm hand was on her shoulder at that moment, and she looked up to see Aragorn's dark grey eyes meet her own lighter grey ones steadily. Kindness and understanding emanated from them as he said, "I am sorry your mother could never tell you that she loved you. A mother's love is very important to a young child. I believe she would be proud of you if she could see you, accepting your fate and having faced the Witch-King on many occasions with a courage most men could not come up with."

Inconnu gave him an earnest smile, a silent thank you for his words. She then glanced over to where she saw the rest of the party was gathered, making last minute preparations. "Let us join the others, as I suspect we shall be leaving quite soon."

He followed her gaze, then gave a nod in agreement. "Indeed we should, lest we will be left behind."

Inconnu flashed him a slight, mischievous grin. "Yes, we certainly wouldn't want to miss such a hazardous adventure after all."

Her words earned her a soft chuckle from the ranger as they both made their way to the other, Sverundr's reins passed back to Inconnu as soon as she was next to the large stallion. He nickered softly at her reappearance, and Inconnu smiled as she rubbed his neck in greeting. Now they were all gathered, the Fellowship of the Ring and the Wanderer of the Mists, prepared as much as they were able for a journey into the darkest land of Middle Earth.

Lord Elrond stood before them, the elves of Imladris with him to witness their parting and into danger unknown.

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further that you will. Farewell, hold to your purpose. May the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you."

All eyes went to young Frodo and Gandalf then said, "The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer."

Slowly, Frodo turns around to face his companions on this long journey, making his way to the head timidly. He mustered his courage to lead them, and in turn the Fellowship and Inconnu followed his lead out of the Valley of Imladris. Inconnu led Sverundr along by his reins, and looking ahead she noticed Frodo say to the Grey Wizard, "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?"

She chuckled softly to herself as Gandalf replied, "Left." placing a hand on Frodo's left shoulder for slight emphasis.

_Now begins a long journey for all of us._

_**Rough Country, South of Rivendell** _

"We must hold to this course, west of the Misty Mountains, for forty days," said Gandalf as they trekked through the rocky plains that lay south of Rivendell"if our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor."

Inconnu nodded to herself, familiar with the path Gandalf had them set on.

_'Tis one of many you could have chosen to tread Gandalf, this being one of the longer ones. Why is that? What made you decide to take this one to the Black Lands?_

Inconnu did not speak out however, for she knew wizards did things quite differently than most folk. Sverundr snorted, knowing as well she did the other paths. Pippin and Merry were ahead of her, their words carrying back to her.

"Forty days?" Pippin commented to Merry, who replied "That's over a month of walking!"

"That it is." Inconnu agreed, and both Hobbits looked at her before falling in their pace to walk alongside her.

Sverundr huffed at their intrusion of his and rider's space, making both Pippin and Merry glance at the draft stallion, easily noting the great difference in size between them and Sverundr. Inconnu silently chuckled as she brushed the fingers of her free hand through Sverunder's thick mane. The stallion instantly calmed, willing to tolerate the presence of the Hobbits for the time being.

Pippin and Merry relaxed as well and Merry then asked Inconnu, "Do you think forty days is a long time?"

Inconnu shook her head lightly. "Not really, I have wandered the Misty Mountains for longer periods of time. Forty days simply doesn't compare."

"Oh," Pippin challenged "Then how long do you wander the mountains for?"

"Two hundred years or so before something draws me from them, usually to visit my mother's grave, then I return to the mountains."

Their jaws had dropped at the first five words.

"Two-two _hundred_ years..." Pippin stuttered "That's a very long time."

Inconnu smiled softly. "Indeed."

"What are the Misty Mountains like Inconnu?" Questioned Merry.

"Well, I should start by saying that it's very easy to get lost in them if you stray from the main paths through them, though there are many off-shoot trails that hunters use. Those trails however are closer to base of the mountains, safer from the dangers that lurk higher and deeper within the entirety of the range. Trolls, goblins, orcs, and the odd wyrm if you travel further north."

"Wyrms? Aren't those dragons essentially?" Pippin asked, and Inconnu had a hand make a _so-so_ gesture.

"They are dragons Pippin, but of a lesser kind. True dragons died out many decades ago, the last of them having been Smaug the Terrible. He was a fire drake who had come down from Withered Heath, a land once filled with many kinds of dragon, and terrorized the Lonely Mountain and the surrounding land before he was finally slayed."

"I know that story!" Cried out Merry. "Bilbo Baggins, Frodo's uncle, was on that quest to slay Smaug!"

"Is that so?" Inconnu's interest was peaked with this information. "It must have been quite the adventure to be a part of. Killing a dragon is no easy feat for anyone to achieve, even I am no exception to this."

"Really? Have you ever faced a dragon?"

"It was a great wyrm," Boromir had now taken an interest in their conversation. "No true dragon, but this one was arguably just as fierce."

Inconnu nodded, and the young Hobbits instantly made pleading faces.

"Tell us the story! Tell us how you slayed a wyrm!"

Inconnu looked down, hiding her embarrassment from the others. Glancing up, she saw the others of the company also taking an interest. She sighed softly, signifying that she had given in by nodding slowly.

"Yes!"

Smiles spread among the group, eager to hear the story and for a break from the usual silence as they traveled. Inconnu lifted her head and took a deep breath before starting the tale.

"This happened over two centuries ago, fifty miles past Mount Gram heading south and approaching the beginning of the River Mitheithel, or the Hoarwell as you may know it better. I was making the long journey back to Osgiliath for the rare visit to my mother's grave..."

_The winds were flying past her as they often did, slower than what was normal so far, but their usual cold bite was not lacking. Inconnu pulled her thick scarf over her nose in an attempt for better protection, tugging her hood lower next in the same purpose._

_Sverundr snorted, his warm breath made visible before the winds stole the evidence away down the trail. The path ahead was rocky, but it was the most stable out of the options she had been presented with not so long ago._

_Sighing, Inconnu refocused on the path ahead. There was a sharp bend in the path, only ten yards down, and Inconnu's instincts warned her of ambush possibilities. There weren't many creatures this far north and at this elevation besides goblins, though the foul creatures mainly hid within their caverns inside the Misty Mountains. The odds of them setting up a trap that used the advantage of a blind corner wasn't entirely impossible however, and serious enough for Inconnu to increase her guard._

_Sverundr picked up on his rider's change of demeanor, and reacted appropriately by taking a more defensible approach to the sharp bend. Inconnu fingered the hilt of her blade as they drew closer to it._ _Unconsciously, she held her breath in as they made the turn, Sverundr cautious and sure in his footing. Once again facing a straighter trail, Inconnu wasn't confronted by a crude trap of goblin design._

_Oh no, what was looking back at her was a wyrm._

_It's scales were as pale as the full moon, though lacking the same luster. The wyrm before her was on the smaller side, marking it as a female of the species. This was, of course, looking past the obvious emaciation, ribs showing and the tightness of the stretched skin._

_Scars from various and many weapons coated her hide, telling of a harsh life of fights with man. The wyrm continued to stare at Inconnu, her pale eyes glistening with hunger, desperate to eat, but they were also glinting with the satisfaction that her trap worked, bringing her the possibility of a meal. Probably her first for some time._

" _Clever girl..." Inconnu muttered under her breath._

_The wyrm snarled, shifting her slight body and obviously weakened muscles. She was going to leap at Inconnu, and the Huntress had no interest in becoming prey. As the wyrm leaped at her, Inconnu slid her sword out with practiced ease and slashed at the extended claws of the wyrm._

_The blade cut into the softer flesh that were the equivalent of palms on a human, and when Inconnu completed the maneuver she ducked and urged Sverundr forward. He complied and put some distance between them and the wyrm, who had crashed back to the ground screeching in pain as small, sharp rocks also dug into the fresh wounds._

_Inconnu whirled Sverundr around, the stallion rearing in face of the wyrm, unafraid of the danger posed in this encounter, confident in the skills of his rider. The Huntress of the North dismounted, opting for a more maneuverable advantage as the wyrm prepared to charge._

_Inconnu only had enough time to prepare her bow for an arrow as the wyrm charged, forcing Inconnu to run at the beast before diving into a roll. Her timing was just enough to let her pass underneath the wyrm to momentary safety, and when Inconnu rose from the ground she turned back around, notched an arrow and released it smoothly. It struck the back of the creature's head, narrowly missing the spine Inconnu had aimed for._

_Inconnu grimaced as the wyrm shrieked, wildly turning around and snarling with rage once she was facing the Huntress. Rolling her shoulders to loosen some tension, Inconnu quickly notched another arrow and loosed it upon the beast, this time hitting her mark of the wyrms right eye._

_Another shriek, and the wyrm instantly clawed at her face to try and remove the arrow. Suddenly she stopped and raised her head, blood dripping down and off the shaft of the arrow still lodged in her eye, making the action of sniffing._

_Growls then sounded from the wyrm's throat at she turned her head to where Sverundr was. Inconnu's eyed widened in realization. If the wyrm couldn't make a meal out of Inconnu, then it would out of her mount._

Oh no you don't!

_Inconnu notched three arrows and aimed just as the wyrm made a move for Sverundr. They hit their marks the same moment Sverundr's front hooves struck the wyrm's head. The arrow in the wyrm's eye was jostled harshly, drawing more blood and causing further pain, sending her reeling backwards from the trauma._

_Inconnu's trio of arrows pierced deep into softer parts of her hide, making the wyrm squirm and screech. The weakened wyrm faced Inconnu again, the Huntress faintly relieved at having her attention again, but when was it ever truly good to have the attention of one of the dragon-kind?_

_The wyrm snarled at Inconnu, once again preparing for a charge, and this time Inconnu notched two arrows. She brought it to aim as the wyrm charged, waiting for the right moment._

_Time seemed to almost slow down as she took in a breath and held it, steadying her form. The wyrm opened its jaws, showing razor teeth made for rending flesh from bone, and Inconnu released the bowstring._

_Time sped up, catching up to the present as her arrows thudded into the extreme soft tissue that made the roof of the wyrm's maw near the back. The iron tips of the arrows pierced deep into the head and its brain. Death was instant, and the emaciated wyrm hit the ground bonelessly only a few feet from the Huntress._

"I too fell to the ground, my back and shoulders quite sore as rolling around on rocks is _not_ like rolling around in grass. Not in the slightest."

Quite a few of the group were speechless at Inconnu's tale, though Aragorn then asked, "So you managed to come away relatively unscathed from a fight with a wyrm?"

Inconnu nodded. "I did, though Sverundr didn't. If you look at his left foreleg, just above the knee, you'll see a scar. The wyrm did manage to wound him, though not too badly."

And look they did, seeing the very scar. Sverundr snorted, thinking nothing of it, and making Inconnu smile at her long-time companion's pride.

"So what did you do next?" Questioned Merry, and Inconnu replied, "Next I took the claws and teeth that were still in good condition, despite the state of the wyrm, and sold it to a trader for a good bit of coin and the story I just now told you. I'm guessing he spread it after the fact."

"You didn't take any scales?" This one came from Gimli. "Scales, even from a wyrm, can fetch a high price with the right buyer."

Inconnu gave a nod as she replied, "That is true, but as I said earlier the wyrm's hide was riddled with scars, not to mention she was just skin and bones as well. The scales, though hard to acquire in the first place, wouldn't have made much to make it worth my while. She would have been poor prey had I been hunting her and not the other way around."

Legolas looked at Inconnu, disbelief written plainly on his features as spoke. "Never would I have thought to ever hear someone consider one of the dragon-kind poor game. High-risk, yes, but not poor."

"Wait!" said Sam, who had remained quiet until now. "This happened over two hundred year ago?"

Inconnu nodded, and he continued speaking his train of thought.

"Horses don't live for very long, so how is Sverundr still alive?"

Realization came upon the others at the seriousness of the question, and the group actually stopped in their walking, awaiting Inconnu's response. Inconnu shrugged faintly, her reply calm in tone.

"True, Sverundr is no ordinary horse. He has magic in his blood, magic that has allowed him to live so long as my companion as I wandered through the Misty Mountains."

Gandalf nodded, understanding her words, and Inconnu believed he said, "Similar to Shadowfax." though she wasn't sure.

Seeing the grey wizard's acceptance of the fact, the others followed suit and once again the party made their way to Gap of Rohan, thinking on the new revelations about the Wanderer of the Misty Mountains and her steed. Inconnu herself thought on the past as they walked, remembering times both good and bad...


	15. Of Dreams and Coming Dangers

" _Danger is ever-present in life, more for some than others." -T.I._

* * *

  _There was darkness surrounding Inconnu. It stalked her, blinding her to all that might have been around her. These were not the shadows one might expect, full of ill intent and hatred to all that lived in the light. This darkness held secrets, tantalizing truths about those she had met, those she currently knew, and those she had yet to encounter._

_Slowly, voices came to exist in the darkness. A reiterating of a conversation that had happened not to long ago in her past._

"Walk away from this. What is to come will only lead to your destruction."

"If I did, then your destruction will be at the hands of another. I simply cannot let that come to pass."

"Then you will die."

"So be it."

_It faded out again and Inconnu whispered,_ _"What is this?"_

" _It is the greatest proof of your conviction to save him, even at the cost of your life."_

_The darkness suddenly melted away to reveal the same clearing in which the aforementioned encounter between herself and the Witch-King took place. Inconnu whirled around to find Orom_ _ё_ _standing calmly behind her, arms folded across his chest. He smiled softly at her and continued._

" _Here you made the Witch-King of Angmar lower his weapon with little resistance, to listen as you spoke of truths and prophecy. None had ever come as close as you have to this creature, this man once known as Er-Murazor, the Eleventh King of Numenor, The Forgotten One."_

_Inconnu lowered her head in respect and humility at his words._ _"I am honored Great Hunter."_

_His smile widened slightly._ _"As you should be, and I have but a single question to ask of you."_

_Inconnu raised her head, prepared as she could be, and he asked,_ _"Have you found the man trapped in the darkness?"_

_She exhaled, taking a moment before replying,_ _"I have found traces of the man you spoke of when we last met. Remnants remain remote. Hidden, obscured, shrouded, but I have sensed the man you had spoken of. I have seen for what The Witch-King once was."_

_Orom_ _ё_ _gave a solemn nod._

_"You have reached through the darkness to him, and now he fights an internal battle. Er-Murazor now fights back as he has not done before against the magic that binds him to his master. The Witch-King's mind has awakened, reason and individual thought now his own after being a slave to Sauron's will for thousands of years."_

" _I understand now the means as to how I can free him from the corruption, but..." Inconnu trailed off, trying to find the right words to say._

 _Orom_ _ё_ _made a small gesture for her to continue, encouraging her to speak her mind. Another moment of silence before Inconnu came up with the courage to._ " _He is so very difficult to understand. I know only of his deeds as the Witch-King of Angmar, not as a King of Numenor. His anger and power I know of and have seen, but peace, kindness... I have grown to care for him, and with all sincerity I want to save him but..."_

" _You don't know if you can grow to love him as well," The Great Hunter finished for her gently, and she nodded in response "Time is what he needs Inconnu Naeril. Time to find himself, to discover who he truly is. Then he can grow to love as well."_

" _Time is in short supply these days." Inconnu commented and Orom_ _ё_ _agreed with her._

" _Yes, it is, but I have faith in you my Chosen. I know that you can succeed in doing what none have believed could be done."_

_Silence returned, both the Huntress of the North and the Vala deep in contemplation. The sounds of gurgling water and buzzing of insects were the only things heard in this dream of the clearing for some time before the Great Hunter said,_ _"I have a gift to give to you Inconnu Naeril."_

_Inconnu met his emerald gaze as he continued._

" _I will not reveal what it is, but it is something that will be of great service to you in the coming year. Middle Earth grows more dangerous as time moves forward. Evil spreads from the furthest corners of the world, heeding Sauron's call to war against the men of the West. What the Witch-King started in Arnor will be finished with the fall of Gondor. This is what lies within the Dark One's plans."_

" _I understand, but how will I know when I come upon your gift?"_

_His tone was sage as he responded,_ _"It will gifted to you by another. You will know then."_

_Inconnu nodded, and the darkness came rushing back into the clearing, signalling the end of their second encounter._

* * *

 Inconnu awoke with a start, drawing the eyes of those closest to her as took in several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Smells of a nicely cooked breakfast made themselves known to her senses, her mouth beginning to water at the mere promise of such a meal.

"Inconnu, are you alright?"

Gandalf was sitting on a rock not too far from where she was, smoking his pipe as he often did. His eyes held no small amount of concern for her, and she addressed his worries as she stood to stretch her muscles.

"A dream Gandalf, and not of the normal kind."

She rolled her shoulders and pulled at them to release the tension within them. Gandalf chortled at her response.

"You imply that there is a kind of dream that is considered 'normal' as you put it."

"There is," She flashed a grin at him "And they are the kind that hold no meaning, only nonsensical whimsy. The dream I speak of was anything but, and the second of its kind that I have now dreamt."

At this, the grey wizard lowered his pipe, his demeanor suddenly very serious as he stated, "You have encountered Oromё once again."

"Indeed."

"What wisdom did he impart to you this time?"

Inconnu sighed softly. "My previous encounters with the Witch-King have affected him greatly. He is changing, thinking for himself. There is also a gift waiting for me to find it, through it shall be given to me by another."

Gandalf's pipe returned to his lips and he smoked it thoughtfully, thinking over Inconnu's words before replying, "That is good news to hear, and as for this gift... was there anything else the Great Hunter said about it?"

She shook her head faintly.

"Only that it would serve me well in the coming year."

Gandalf slowly nodded and then the clashing of swords rang through the small camp. Inconnu turned her head to determine where it was coming from, and what met her sight was of Boromir and Pippin practicing at swords. This brought a smile to her lips.

"What brought that about?"

Gandalf followed her gaze and a puff from his pipe came soon after.

"Oh that? I believe the young Took mentioned he wanted to know how to swing a sword, and Boromir offered to teach him the basics. Soon enough Merry joined as well."

Now satisfied with her stretched, Inconnu stole an apple from one of her saddlebags and then leaned against the slab of rock the wizard sat upon as she ate it. Gimli made his way over to the pair soon enough, grumbling slightly as he addressed Gandalf.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note that they are not, I'd say we're taking the _long_ way 'round."

Inconnu turned an eye to the dwarf, seeing that he had reached the same conclusion she did about their chosen road to Mordor. This was indeed a longer road to travel, but also one of the safer ones as well.

"Gandalf," Gimli continued "We can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome!"

Inconnu glanced up to see Gandalf's reaction to this idea, and his expression matched her own. A deep worry had filled both their minds, and Inconnu was getting the idea the he too knew what now dwelt in the mines.

"No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Yes, it seemed that Gandalf too knew of the Balrog, and that Gimli had no idea of the fate of Moria and his people that had resided there. Inconnu's attention was taken away from her thoughts when Legolas rushed past them and up onto some rocks for a better vantage. He was staring closely at what looked to be a darker cloud formation in the distance. Inconnu squinted her eyes, her keen senses as a hunter telling her that there was something more to that dark streak in the sky.

"What is that?" Inquired Sam, to which Gimli replied with great confidence, "Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud."

Boromir now joined them, Aragorn and the other three Hobbits with him.

"It's moving fast," He observed "Against the wind."

"Crebain from Dunland!" Cried out Legolas, and that moment both Aragorn and Inconnu shouted, "Hide!" before rushing off to find a place to hide.

Inconnu whistled a short series of notes, signalling for Sverundr to hide as well.

"Hurry! Take cover!" Ordered both Aragorn and Boromir, and in less than five minutes all traces of the camp had vanished along with the group.

Inconnu was crouched in a thick patch of shrubbery native to the area, its short canopy entangled enough to provide excellent cover. She softened her breath, quieting so it was barely noticeable unless one really looked for it.

The sounds of wings flapping and high-pitched screeches flooded where their campsite once was. Inconnu carefully watched them, seeing how the circled the small, seeking for any sign that the Fellowship was there. Her lithe form was still, a statue as she dared not to move. Then the birds were gone as quickly as they came, vanishing to the south.

Slowly the company left their hiding places, each member eyeing the direction where the Crebain had left.

"Spies of Saruman," Intoned Gandalf, "The passage south is being watched."

Everyone looked to Gandalf, Frodo looking quite worried now. The wizard took a breath before looking to the snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains.

"We must take the Pass of Caradhras!"

Inconnu's gaze snapped to Gandalf's, her eyes asking if he was absolutely sure he wanted to take the Fellowship through there. He gave a subtle nod, and she sighed faintly.

"Inconnu," He implored "Are you willing to guide us through with the vast knowledge you hold of the Misty Mountains?"

Eyes were on her now, but Inconnu was already nodding.

"Yes, I shall guide us through the pass to the best of my ability. More so in fact to ensure our safety."

And with this, the Fellowship followed the Wanderer's lead as she led them across the snow covered range of the mountains. Inconnu led walked along Sverundr, each quite surefooted on this difficult terrain.

"Frodo!" She heard Aragorn call out, and she stooped to look behind her.

The young Ringbearer had fallen in the slip, having slipped it seems. Aragorn was there to help him up, and Frodo was surer on his feet, the felt his neck for something. Inconnu's eye widened when she saw Boromir kneel to the snow and pick something up.

The One Ring dangled from his grasp.

Her grey gaze narrowed.

_Don't do what you are thinking of doing my friend. Don't risk everything for this madness you have conceived._

Everyone had now stopped, seeing the Ring in Boromir's possession.

"Boromir." said Aragorn, but it was not enough as Boromir said, almost to himself, "It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing."

"Size does not matter much in terms of power Boromir," Inconnu then said, this time gaining the warrior's attention She continued "the world learned that the first time Sauron used the One Ring against the united armies of Middle Earth."

Her tone grew just a little colder, the warning in them obvious.

"Let us not give him the chance to use it a second time."

"Boromir!" Aragorn repeated, gaining Boromir's attention as he continued with "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Frodo looked at Boromir with an untrusting gaze, and Inconnu could not blame him. The Captain of Gondor then made his way to the Hobbit, holding out the Ring to Frodo who snatched it from Boromir's hand. Frodo held it close to his chest as Aragorn and Boromir matched gazes.

"As you wish. I care not." Boromir then said, ruffling the snow from Frodo's dark hair before leaving the two.

Inconnu released the breath she held in, relaxing and glad the conflict did not escalate any further.

_**Isengard** _

"So, Gandalf, you have convinced the Wanderer of the Mists to lead you and your friends over Caradhras."

Saruman was not particularly happy with the news his spies had just now brought him. He walked away from the overlook, deep in thought. The presence of the Huntress of the North changed many things, and Saruman did not look forward to adapting his plans around a figure known for her unpredictability. A thought then came to him, and a dark smile appeared on his aged features.

"And if that fails, where then will you go? What will you do if even the Wanderer cannot provide safe passage?"

He then stopped in his walking and looked towards the north where the pass lay so many miles away.

"If the mountain defeats you, will you risk a more dangerous road?"

_**Pass of Caradhras** _

The winds were fierce upon the path, battering at the group with biting frost. Inconnu had long ago put on her scarf and pulled her hood over her head, providing her much protection from the cold and winds that tried to blind her.

Progress through the deep snow was hard and slow, the only exceptions being Legolas and Inconnu who were both exceptionally light on their feet due to their Elven blood. Inconnu kept pace with Sverundr however, who was plowing through the snow and leaving an easier path behind him for the others to follow.

Sverundr also bore Frodo upon his back, the young Hobbit curled against the large stallion's neck to take in the warmth his the horse's body. His hands also clutched at Sverundr's thick mane in in worry that he may fall. Inconnu knew that Frodo had no reason to worry, for she knew Sverundr wouldn't let him fall so easily.

Her senses heightened when her ears caught words on the wind, and as it continued the feeling of magic grew thicker in the chilling air.

"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse! Nai yarvaxea rasselya!"

_Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your horn be bloodstained!_

Legolas had now joined her at the front, also looking in the direction of where the dark voice was coming from.

"There is a fell voice on the air." He commented, and Inconnu gave a single nod in agreement.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried out as thunder boomed and rocks fell from above. The slide narrowly missed them and Sverundr whinnied. Inconnu patted his nose to calm him.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted above the wind "We must turn back!"

"No!" The grey wizard argued as he then raised his and chanted into the wind "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuito i ruith!" _Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!_

The voice of Saruman strengthened however, imposing his will upon the great peak of the Misty Mountains.

"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse! Nai yarvaxea rasselya taltuva notto-carinnar!"

_Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your bloodstained horn fall upon enemy heads!_

Lightning struck the mountainside and all too familiar rumbling made Inconnu turn to the company and scream, "Avalanche!" as she pulled Sverundr and Frodo to safety.

The others took heed of her warning and made their way as so they were pressed up against the mountain. Snow fell in a great waterfall of ice, burying the Fellowship and the Wanderer.

Moments later, heads popped out of the newly made snowdrift, the greatest reappearance being Sverundr's. Snow exploded as the large stallion shrugged it off, and Inconnu quickly checked on Frodo. He was shivering a bit, but overall looked unharmed from the avalanche. She then looked to Gandalf and shouted over the wind to be heard.

"Gandalf, we cannot go further on this path!"

He met her gaze, almost as if to ask her to say otherwise, but she shook her head.

"I won't allow us to carry on like this! It has become far too dangerous!"

"Let us make for the Gap of Rohan then!" Boromir suggested "Take the West road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argued, and his reasoning could not be countered.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli now put forth the same idea he brought up not too long ago "Let us go through the Mines of Moria!"

Both Inconnu and Gandalf became very still, and they looked at each other in worry. The mines were a great danger to try and pass through, but was it less dangerous than the situation they were currently in? Inconnu had already refused to go further on the Pass of Caradhras. Everyone would die if they continued onward, she knew that was a certainty. Gandalf turned his gaze from Inconnu to look at Frodo, his tone solemn.

"Let the Ringbearer decide."

The weight of the decision seemed like a physical thing upon Frodo's shoulders. Inconnu noticed Merry and Pippin shiver as Boromir held onto them, and Gandalf asked, "Frodo?"

Slowly, the young Hobbit lifted his head to face Gandalf and he replied, "We will go through the mines."

Gandalf slowly nodded.

"So be it."


	16. To Delve Into Khazad-dûm

" _A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality." -John Lennon_

* * *

  _ **Western Base of the Misty Mountains**_

The mists hung low on the ground, though not thick enough to obscure the path ahead as the Fellowship and Inconnu walked along it. Inconnu saw that Gandalf had called Frodo to him, the wizard leaning carefully on the Hobbit before they stopped.

She had a very good idea about what words Gandalf was imparting upon the young Ringbearer, and she had no quarrel about them. The darkness was everywhere it seems, and trust was already a heavy price to pay.

Looking up ahead once again Inconnu saw Gimli stop as well, a look of complete awe overtaking him, his words conveying such.

"The Walls of Moria!"

The group had stopped at what looked to be the edge of a decently sized lake, but her hunter's instincts told her not to disturb it. Something was in it, something Inconnu got the feeling would prove difficult prey. The Fellowship moved onward, making their way around it with care, the light of the dusk quickly fading into the early hour of the night.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gimli stated as they walked, pausing briefly to knock his axe against the wall of stone to see if he could hear it.

"Yes Gimli," Humoured Gandalf "their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas commented, his words putting a scowl on Gimli.

Inconnu kept her chuckle to herself, rather enjoying the banter that would occur between the members of this company. Particularly between Legolas and Gimli. They continued their trek until Gandalf stopped before a section of wall, his hand wandering over it, looking for something specific Inconnu assumed.

"Well, let's see... Ithildin... it only mirrors starlight and moonlight."

The grey wizard turned to look up at the sky, just in time to see the clouds move away from the full moon. Etches in the stone Inconnu had not noticed before began to shine with a white light, forming the image of a doorway. In the arch of what were runes of the dwarvish language, a tongue she wasn't too familiar with.

"It reads, 'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'" Gandalf translated as he gestured with the tip of his staff.

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked, and Gandalf replied with confidence, "It's simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors with open."

He then put the tip of his staff against the star etching on the door. Merry nodded his head excitedly to Pippen, but Inconnu wasn't quite sure that opening the doors would be as easy as Gandalf thought they would be.

"Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!" _Gate of the Elves, open for me!_

Nothing happened. Not a thing changed, the wall remaining as solid as it appeared before. Gandalf took a step back, looking quite baffled that it didn't work. Undettered however, he raised his arms this time and chanted,

"Fennas Nothothrim, lasto beth lammen!" _Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue!_

And still, the Door of Durin remained shut to them.

"Nothing's happening." Pippen stated quite obviously, and Inconnu saw that the comment annoyed the grey wizard.

Gandalf now attempted to push open the door by force, but the stone remained steadfast.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men, and Orcs..." He muttered under his breath.

"What are you going to do then?" Asked Pippin, and Inconnu sighed when Gandalf snapped at the Hobbit.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words."

"Gandalf, there is no need for such harsh words now," Inconnu said calmly. "We will find a way inside, that we can be sure of. You are not alone in this."

Taking her words in, Gandalf have her a nod in thanks before once again facing the door with a new incantation on his lips.

They would find a way to open the doors, one way or another.

_**Later** _

The grey wizard had been chanting variations of the same purpose for some time now, and his voice was taking on a noticeable weariness. Inconnu could sympathize with Gandalf's tiredness, still affected by what happened on the mountain pass.

Sverundr snorted, gaining her attention as she brushed her fingers through his mane before returning to her earlier task of collecting what supplies she could carry on her person. Aragorn and Sam were doing the same with the ranger's gelding.

"Mines are no place for a horse, even one so brave as him." Aragron said, his tone comforting.

"Bye..." Sam whispered to the gelding halfheartedly, and Aragorn slapped the horse's rump, making the gelding trotting off.

"Go on... Don't worry Sam, he knows his way home."

Sam then turned, seeing Inconnu and Sverundr before asking,

"Are you going to send him away too Inconnu?"

She nodded. "I have to, as Aragorn said a mine is no place for horses, especially one of Sverundr's size."

Said stallion snorted indignantly, turning his neck so he could headbutt Inconnu in her side. He succeeded, but Inconnu simply ruffled his mane.

"You are just upset that I'm going on without you."

Another snort and Inconnu laughed softly.

"I know, I'm going to miss you too, but you're a big boy. You can take care of yourself just fine."

"You two are quite close, aren't you?" The Hobbit observed, and Inconnu nodded once again.

"Sverundr is a friend true, and I couldn't ask for a greater companion."

Soon enough, Inconnu finished preparing her pack and directed Sverundr to the way out.

"I'll see you on the other side old friend, have no doubts."

With a final snort, the large stallion also trotted away before pushing into a canter. Sam looked up at Inconnu, a little confused.

"What did you mean by saying you would see him on the other side?"

"Exactly that. He knows where the exit of Moria lies."

The Hobbit didn't looked convinced.

"No horse can know that."

Inconnu simply smiled, replying, "I did say not long ago that Sverundr was no ordinary horse."

A loud splash broke into the conversation, both Hobbit and Huntress looked for the cause. It had been Merry and Pippin throwing rocks into the lake, and when Pippin made to throw another into the dark water Aragorn grabbed his arm from behind.

"Do not disturb the water." His tone was ominous, and his gaze on the water was wary as the ripple appeared to grow, soon exchanging looks with both Boromir and Inconnu.

Each of them put a hand on their swords, preparing for what may happen next. Suddenly the stone door swings out silently, garnering everyone's attention. Frodo was looking quite proud of himself, and Inconnu then knew that the young Hobbit had figured out how to open the door. Once facing the door, Inconnu whispered to Frodo, "Excellent work." before heading into the darkness of the mine with the rest of the Fellowship.

Each of them were wary and they stepped inside, the only things seen being a vast darkened cavern and great winding steps that led deeper into the mountain. Only Gimli seemed unaffected the obvious aura of death and dust.

"Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves!" He boasted to Legolas "Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin... and they call this a mine." He snorted in disbelief before continuing, "A mine!"

Suddenly light burst from Gandalf's staff, illuminating the cavern to reveal what he and Inconnu already knew. The others of the company recoiled at the sight of many dwarven skeletons, still clad in rusting armor. Shields, swords, and spears too were littered about and were in no better condition than their long-dead masters. Crudely made arrows pierced the shields and armor in loose groups, as well as a few makeshift axes that remained embedded in their targets.

Boromir's features were grim, matching his tone as he spoke. "This is no mine... It's a tomb!"

Gimli had been looking upon the gruesome scene with horror, the shock almost too much for him.

"Oh....no...no... no!" He wailed as Legolas then pulled one of the arrows out of the nearest skeleton.

"Goblins." He says harshly and everyone withdrew their weapons, backing out of the cavern to the outside.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir states, and no one opposes him "We should have never come here."

A loud splash sounds behind them, and Inconnu whirls around in time to see Frodo cry out, being dragged to the water by a long, sinuous tentacle. She rushes forward to his rescue, followed closely by Aragorn and Boromir. Quickly she and Boromir grab a hold of his arms, hands grasping at wrists as Aragorn then severs the tentacle allowing Frodo to be pulled to safety.

Inconnu switches her sword for her bow as more tentacles rise from the water, Boromir slashing at them as they came too close. The dark water of the lake boils and a hideous creature rises from the depths, and Inconnu took aimed shots at the head.

It lashes out at the company, again gaining possession of Frodo, lifting the Hobbit high into the air. Aragorn then draws closer to the beast, hacking at a tentacle and forcing it to release Frodo. He falls to the ground, timely caught by Boromir who had rushed forward to do so.

"Into the mines!" Called out Gandalf, and Inconnu grimaced though the mines were the best defensive advantage as of the current situation.

"Legolas!" Boromir shouted, leaving the Elf to take a final shot at the creature's head to buy precious seconds before racing to the entrance as well.

The moment everyone was inside, large and coiled tentacles seized a hold of the great stone doors and with a shattering echo it rips the doors away. Large rocks tumble down the cliffside, crashing to the ground and within seconds the entrance to Moria was sealed off from the outside world. Their world was pitch black until a faint glow once again rose from Gandalf's staff, throwing the faces of the company into a more frightening light.

"Now we have but one choice," The grey wizard's words were ominous as he went on "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard... there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."

Things such as a Balrog, deep in the halls of Khazad-dûm, but Inconnu did not speak such thoughts aloud. There was no need to scare the Hobbits witless, nor to put the rest of the group further on edge. Everyone need to keep their senses keen in order to escape this tomb, and fear is the greatest mind-killer.

The Fellowship and Inconnu moved into a new chamber, Gandalf leading them across a precarious bridge. Glancing down, she the deep inner-workings of the mine, and was impressed by the sheer scale of the operation.

_It must have been quite a sight to witness._

"Quiet now," Gandalf whispered "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence will go unnoticed."

And softly did they tread, through dark corridors and caverns, led only by the faint light cast by Gandalf's staff. Time seemed endless, no one truly sure of the time and the sun was quickly becoming memory alone.

Then they came upon a chamber filled with ropes that were rotting away and where ancient ladders scaled great heights and delved into deep depths. Gandalf stops, his free hand touching a substance that shined a silvery color on the wall.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels but mithril." He said softly before holding his staff over the edge, showing more of the great drop down below.

The mine was great and vast indeed, and as everyone looked down a faint, blue glow issued from the depths. Nothing moved down below as well, giving the company unspoken assurances that they had been been noticed so far by foul creatures. Quickly they moved on from the chamber, continuing to listen the Gandalf's soft tones.

"Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him."

"Oh!" Gimli exclaimed as quietly as he could "That was a kingly gift!"

"Yes," Gandalf agreed "I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

 _Quite the gift indeed_.

Inconnu knew, of course, of the value and strength of items forged with mithril. She herself possessed no such items however, as mithril weapons and armor were rare to come by. One had a better chance to find lost Elven blades forged during the First Age of Middle Earth than to come across even a mithril dagger.

Not long after the small experience with the mithril ore did they find themselves before a path that split into three passages, each disappearing into a dark tunnel. This gave the grey wizard pause, a frown appearing on his aged features.

"I have no memory of this place..."

Multiple shoulders sagged, and Inconnu collapsed from sudden exhaustion. Before she could fall to the ground however, Aragorn caught her. Inconnu leaned against him for support as the rest of the group looked at her with worry.

"Inconnu, are you alright? What's wrong?" Frodo's worried tone cut through the weariness of her mind, but she could not find words to reply with. Gandalf, however, figured out what ailed her.

"Our Wanderer cannot sense where she is Master Baggins, and it's wreaking great confusion upon her instincts. The world underground is not her territory but the peaks of the Misty Mountains to far north are. Inconnu must regain herself, and to do so she must rest."

"We don't have that kind of time." Argued Boromir, who was thinking logically but it was taken as uncaring by the others.

"I am afraid we are stuck at these crossroads until I can remember, and that might not be for some while. Inconnu can take her rest, and we shall wake her when we have discovered the path out of Moria."

Inconnu then herself being gently propped up against a rock as comfortably as possible, and once her eyelids fully his her grey irises she then began to sleep...and to dream.

* * *

  _She was still in the mines, still deep underground and very far the thick forests and rocky peaks she knew so well. Her breath was short, her lungs begging to take in wild mountain air and not this stifling pressure underneath it. Her hands searched, almost desperately for something tangible to prove that she was not alone in this darkness._

_And find something she did, for next Inconnu's hands clutched onto rough, frayed fabric. Her knuckles brushed against a metal plate, and as she carefully she looked up soft lights faded into existence to shed a pale glow upon her and whatever she holding onto._

_However, it was more a_ who _than a_ what _, as Inconnu found herself looking into the dark, familiar hood that belonged to the Witch-King of Angmar._

" _You were a fool to go into the depths of Khazad-dûm."_

_Inconnu did not respond, which only encouraged him to continue in his harsh and judging tone._

" _Do you not know of the shadow and flame?"_

" _Yes," She lightly snapped back "I know of the Balrog that lurks in these halls."_

_The Witch-King then tilted his head, as if looking down at where Inconnu was grasping his dark robes._

_"You tremble, though not out of fear of me."_

_Reflexively Inconnu released his robes, stumbling back enough to cause her to trip because of her unbalance. She closed her eyes, expecting to hit the ground, but her right arm was suddenly gripped by a metal gauntlet._

_Her eyes snapped open, seeing how the Witch-King held her from fully falling to the stone floor beneath them before hoisting her back onto her feet. Inconnu was still a little unsteady, and so his hand upon her did not leave._

" _You are not yourself in this place." He commented plainly, making Inconnu lower her head to look at the suddenly interesting ground by her boots,._

" _I will not admit weakness to you." Inconnu muttered halfheartedly._

" _It is plain to see."_

" _And what will do this advantage then?" She challenged as she looked up at him directly, expecting an immediate answer in retaliation, but to her surprise he was silent._

_The Witch-King seemed to honestly be thinking, and a faint tingling of hope made itself known deep within herself._

" _Nothing."_

_Inconnu's grey eyes widened in response as he continued._

_"I see no gain from using this weakness against you."_

" _Why?" She whispered softly, and his reply was in a quieter tone as well._

" _I have not heard the voice of my master since our third encounter. There is silence and strange thoughts have replaced him... thoughts that I found to be my own."_ _A pause, then he continued with,_ _"One thought has plagued me for some time now."_

" _And what would that be?" Inconnu asked, honestly curious as to what the Witch-King would think about under his own power._

" _You."_

_Inconnu was taken quite aback with this confession. She tried to form words, but was beaten to the punch when the Witch-King suddenly asked,_

_"What is your name?"_

" _Inconnu. My name is Inconnu Naeril."_

_He then lifted the arm he still held, letting his cold gauntlet slide down, raising little goosebumps, until he barely held to her fingers._

" _The blood of Numenor runs in your veins..." The Witch-King commented to himself and Inconnu remained silent, letting him note specific details about her._

_He then let her hand drop and was about to say something else before the lights violently flickered out and a voice called out to her, ending the dream._

" _Inconnu! Wake up!"_

* * *

 And wake she did, her grey eyes blearily looking around before things started to come into focus. A hand was on her shoulder, and following it she saw Legolas. He stood and then held the same hand to her to help her up, and she took it without hesitation. Carefully, Inconnu stretched the muscles of her back before looking around and asking, "Am I correct to say that we have discovered the path that will lead us out of this mine?"

Gandalf nodded, gesturing to the path in question.

"Indeed we have. How are feeling now Inconnu?"

"Better, no longer as anxious but I will not truly feel like myself until we have left Khazad-dûm behind us."

At this, Aragorn smiled. "You are not the only one to bear such thoughts."

The mood lifted considerably as the company walked down the path and entered the largest cavern they have come across. Inconnu got the feeling that they have entered a place that held greatness.

"Let me risk a little more light." Said Gandalf, and promptly the crystal in his staff grew brighter, revealing a great hall filled with pillars of stone.

Inconnu's jaw nearly dropped at the sheer sight of it all.

"Behold, the great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf!" The grey wizard proclaimed in a hushed tone, still wary of the dangers that more than likely crept in the shadow beyond their sight.

"There's an eye opener, and no mistake." Sam's voice also held the same awe many of the Fellowship wore upon their faces, and Inconnu nodded.

She had never seen dwarven architecture on this grand of a scale, making it a truly great and humbling sight. Gandalf's light dimmed once more, and the company moved on though still affected the massive hall they were in. Turning a corner, Gimli made a shocked sound and rushed off to an open doorway where a white light shined through.

"Gimli!" Gandalf warned, but it was not heeded and the others followed after him.

The room they entered held a solitary sarcophagus of dark stone, a finely carved slab of white stone making its lid.

They had come upon a proper tomb within the larger one that was Moria.


	17. To Escape From Khazad-dûm

" _It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone." -John Steinbeck_

* * *

 Gimli was on his knees before the tomb, sobbing as the the rest of the Fellowship and Inconnu drew closer. Her grey gaze wandered throughout the tomb, noting the many skeletons both Dwarf and Goblin. Loose sheets lay everywhere, covered in a very noticeable layer of dust.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin,'" Gandalf translated as he read the writing on the slab "Lord of Moria. He is dead then..."

He then took off his hat, his gaze meeting Inconnu's.

"It is as I feared."

The grey wizard glanced down at that moment, and Inconnu did as well, She noted the thick tome in the skeletal hands of a dwarf warrior, and Gandalf handed his hat and staff to Pippin before moving to pick it up.

"We must move," Legolas said quietly "we cannot linger."

Inconnu agreed with him, the more stable parts of her instincts warning her to leave and to do so _now_. Gandalf now had the large book open before him, his eyes glancing over the words before reading them aloud.'

"'They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums...drums in the deep.'"

He turned the page to continue.

"'We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out.'"

Now Gandalf looked up to the rest of the company, his tone solemns and final.

"'They are coming.'"

A metallic clang sounded throughout the small room, and everyone's attention flew to where Pippin stood by the well, the skeleton upon it no longer having a skull perched on it's shoulders.

The Hobbit looked wide-eyed and Gandalf before the rest of the skeleton also fell into the well. Clangs and the rattling of an iron chain then echoed not only in the room, but also in the darker depths of Moria.

Everyone was stock still, listening intently for any sign of something coming for them. Long moments passed, and Inconnu then dared to breath a soft sigh.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf scolded as he put the book down "Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity."

The wizard took his hat and staff back, and it was then Inconnu ears picked up a rumbling. It was faint, coming from far below them, but it was there and her eyes widened.

"I hear drums." She warned, and Sam drew Frodo's attention his sword.

It was glowing a light blue when Frodo unsheathed it slightly, and then foul cries rang through the air.

"Orcs!" Legolas cried out, and with that the taller folk of the Fellowship leapt into action.

Boromir ran for the doors, intending to shut them and nearly getting hit by a few arrows. Aragorn shouted for the Hobbits to stay with Gandalf before he ran to help Boromir. Together, they closed the ancient doors and propped themselves against it to keep it that way.

"They have a cave-troll." Boromir stated as calmly as he could before catching an axe tossed by Legolas, using it to start barring the doors.

Inconnu helped in this, handing various weapons to Aragorn and soon the door was held closed. Now each ran to different vantage points: Gimli on top of the sarcophagus, Gandalf defending the Hobbits, Boromir on one side with his sword and shields at the ready, and Legolas and Aragorn with their arrows waiting the be released. Inconnu too had withdrawn her bow, though had climbed onto one of the wide ledges for the advantage of the higher ground.

"Let them come!" Gimli challenged "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

The door soon was taking a barrage of great pounding, and weak as it was it was under heavy strain to remain closed. Crude iron weapons began breaking down the rotting wood of the doors, and they left holes large enough for Legolas, Aragorn and Inconnu to start sending arrows into the goblins trying to get in.

Shrieks reached their ears as the orcs began to lose a few of their number, but soon burst into the tomb and rushed at the company. The archers of the Fellowship continued to let their arrows fly into the mass of goblins, each arrow striking true before Aragorn switched his bow for his sword and joining Boromir in cutting them down. Inconnu remained where she was, content to continue to fire from above into the orc horde.

Gimli and Gandalf then made their charge into the fray, and to her surprise Inconnu saw the Hobbits join the fight as well. Inconnu smiled softly, despite the severity of the current situation.

_Never shall I dare to question the courage of Hobbits after this day._

The fighting went on and many more goblins fell from sword and arrow before a new challenge lumbered into the room. Pulled along by a thick chain, the cave-troll Boromir had seen earlier swung a fist at the stone above the doors, smashing it and bringing rubble to the ground.

It roared in rage, a great thirst for blood and flesh in its eyes. Legolas shot an arrow into it, hitting the soft flesh between shoulder and bicep. It only roared and then charged at Sam, the cudgel it wielded poised to strike the Hobbit down.

Reflexively Sam ducked and rolled underneath the large beast, and Inconnu quietly praised his instincts, making a quick shot at another weak spot of the cave-troll before returning to pick off the few remaining goblins. Suddenly Boromir hit the wall next to her, then tumble down hard to the ground.

"Boromir!" She cried out and Boromir shook his head, blood dripping down the side of his mouth and he was then confronted by a goblin hoping to make an easy kill.

It had just raised its dagger before one of Inconnu's arrows lodged itself into the goblin's throat. Boromir snuck a look at Inconnu as the goblin's fell to the side, gratitude in his eyes before he stood and jumped back into the fight with the cave-troll.

Gimli had now thrown his axe into the shoulder of the cave-troll, gaining a scream of pain from the creature before it swung its cudgel down at him. The dwarf jumped from the grave of his cousin and the cave-trolls swing broke the slab of white stone, along with most of the sarcophagus itself.

Legolas was now on the ledge on the opposite Inconnu, stabbing and slicing his daggers into the any unlucky goblin that came near them. She would have had the same problem of goblins climbing onto her ledge, but none escaped her keen eye and the reach of her bow.

The cave-troll then began to swing its chain around, trying to hit Legolas but the elf was far too nimble. Inconnu drew two arrows for her back and loosed them on the wrist that wielded the long chain when the iron links wrapped around one of the thick stone pillars.

Instantly the cave-troll removed its grip on the chain, howling in pain as Legolas walked the chain and jumped onto its head, two arrows notched. He shot down point black into the cave-trolls skull but the arrows broke and scattered away, the skin on the creature's head too hard and thick to be pierced. Legolas then leaped off when the cave-troll tried to grab him, landing smoothly before sending another arrow into a goblin.

However, the cave-troll turned its attention to Frodo, Pippin, and Merry, who were gathered together in one corner of the tomb. It had picked up its cudgel again and smashed the ground before the Hobbits, sending them flying back and to the sides. Frodo was now isolated against the large creature, and he quickly hid behind the closest pillar.

"Frodo!" Aragorn cried out, slashing through more goblins, trying to get to where the Hobbit attempted to hide from the cave-troll.

Inconnu aided the ranger, sending arrows thudding into orc skull and through weaknesses in their crude armor.

"Aragorn!" Frodo shouted in fear, managing to dodge the blows from the cave-trolls cudgel thus far "Aragorn!"

"Frodo!"

Even with Inconnu's help, Aragorn was still surrounded by many goblins trying to overwhelm him but able due to the rapid firing of Inconnu's bow from above. Suddenly he broke through, an opening making itself apparent, grabbing a large spear made for hunting wild boar as he jumped between Frodo and the cave-troll. Aragorn then struck and held the spear just underneath the ribcage of the creature, causing it to wail at the great pain it surely felt.

The spear dug further in, but Aragorn was swept aside by a swinging fist. His head hit a stone pillar and then he slumped to the ground. Frodo rushed to his aid as the cave-troll removed the spear from its side.

It swung it at the Hobbit, but Frodo noticed just in time to dodge before attempting to run past it. The spear suddenly blocked his way before hitting him and tossing him into a corner.

There was nothing Inconnu could do in time to stop the tip of the spear from stabbing into Frodo.

"No!"

"Frodo!"

From their vantage point, Merry and Pippin leaped into the back of the cave-troll, stabbing their blades into it before they were grabbed and thrown off. Aragorn had now regained consciousness and joined the others in slashing and stabbing the large creature. Inconnu eyed the distance between herself and the cave-troll before shouldering her bow and withdrawing a simple hunting dagger.

She leapt from the ledge shouting,

"Legolas!" before she landed on the cave-troll's back, gaining a hold on its iron collar and leaning back with all her weight. This forced the creature to reel back, raising its head and exposing its throat.

Inconnu heard two arrows thud into the creature then it groaned in confusion, swaying and before it fell Inconnu jumped off and landed into a roll. Quickly, she picked herself back up and ran to Frodo, who was already helping held up by Aragorn.

To her complete shock, the young Hobbit coughed before opening his eyes and looking at everyone as he took in several deep breaths.

"He's alive!" Sam confirmed to Gandalf, who wearily leaned against the closest wall, relieved at Frodo's survival.

"You should be dead!" Inconnu said, and Aragorn agreed.

"That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf commented knowingly, and at this Frodo parted his shirt to reveal a chain-link shirt of a silvery-white metal.

"Mithril..." Gimli voice held awe "you are full of surprises Master Baggins!"

The clanking of armor and cries of more goblins interrupted the moment, and Inconnu warned,

"We must leave!"

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" The grey wizard quickly said and the group ran after him out of the gaping hole that was now in the back wall of the tomb.

Glancing behind them, Inconnu saw great hosts of orcs chasing them. This was a losing battle, their prior victory defeating but a drop in the vast ocean.

"This way!" Gandalf cried out, and Inconnu now saw goblins scaled down the many pillars like large spiders.

They continued to run, but were soon cut off from their current path. The foul creatures had them completely surrounded and they were a great many in number indeed. Their situation was dire, and seemed to be quite hopeless. Each of the company drew their blades, preparing for what would more than likely be their final stand in the dark depths of Moria.

Then, a dark and deep growl rumbled through the vast Hall of Durin.

A fiery red light shone from the far entrance to the cavern, causing the goblins to become agitated and shrieking with fear. At the sound of a grunt, the orcs scattered with speed, running to escape what made those sounds. The hall was soon empty of the foul creatures, leaving the Fellowship and the Huntress of the North to watch as the large, red glow steadily came closer.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir quietly asked Gandalf, and the wizard lowered his staff to rest one end on the floor.

His head hung low, eyes shut tight before opening them at the sounds of another growl and deep sniffing, but it was Inconnu who spared Gandalf of answering Boromir's question.

"A Balrog," She said, fear seeping into her voice as she continued "a demon of the ancient world."

Faces paled and eyes widened with growing fear.

"This is a foe beyond any of you," Gandalf warned before shouting "Run!"

And they did just that, fleeing from the demon of shadow and flame.

"Quickly!"

Gandalf guided them through an archway and down a flight of stairs. Boromir reached the bottom first and nearly fell off due to the sudden drop. Legolas wrapped his arms around Boromir, pulling him back to safety and the others were now mindful of the fall. Aragorn grabbed the grey wizard's shoulder firmly.

"Gandalf."

The wizard shook his head.

"Lead them on Aragorn, the bridge is near."

Inconnu looked to where Gandalf was gazing and indeed the bridge was near, but the path to it was perilous. However, it was better than facing a demon where death was a certainty. Gandalf then pushed Aragorn onwards.

"Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!"

The company traveled down as carefully and as quickly as they could, not wanting to fall to their death or to be caught by the Balrog. Coming upon a wide gap in the staircase, both Legolas and Inconnu jumped it easily. They turned back to await the rest of the group when the archway they had left only minutes before shook and a louder growl filled the air.

"Gandalf!" Legolas called out, and the grey wizard then too jumped the gap, caught and steadied by the Elf.

The thwacks and whistling of arrows came close to them, and Inconnu whipped her bow out and returned fire, using sound and the little light there was to pinpoint the locations of the goblin archers.

She heard shrieks as she hit her marks, seeing dark shapes fall into the darkness below. Boromir jumped with both Merry and Pippin in his hold, making it to the other side as the steps they had leapt from crumbled away.

Legolas now joined Inconnu is ridding the goblin archers, covering their friends as the others now attempted to cross the gap. Aragorn help Sam make the jump, the Hobbit being caught by Gandalf.

Faintly, Inconnu smiled when she heard Gimli say,

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" before barely making the jump.

He began to fall backwards however, and Legolas grabbed onto his beard to help pull him up.

"Not the beard!"

More of the staircase crumbled away, leaving a greater challenge for Aragorn and Frodo to jump. It shook again, and this time stone from the ceiling fell. A large piece of carved stone crashed into the path behind the two who had yet to join them. Aragorn grabbed onto Frodo, holding him close as their section of staircase began to sway, its only means to stability now gone.

"Hang on!" cried out Aragorn as he moved with Frodo to try and balance it.

"Lean forward!" He ordered next once he deemed it stable enough, and then the broken part of steps moved towards the others.

The moment it crashed into the more stable part, Aragorn and Frodo jumped to safety. Once they were steady on their feet, the company rushed to where the bridge lay. Then they were there, the Bridge of Khazad-dûm before them, the last place they had to cross and they would then be out of Moria.

"Quickly!" Gandalf shouted "Fly!"

Inconnu had just past Gandalf to cross the bridge when a massive roar came from behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks, and carefully she turned to see the creature made of shadow and flame that was the Balrog.

Its horns curved downward, framing a gruesome head of shadow. It roared both her and Gandalf, its great wings unfurling to add more to its presence. This was a creature rarely challenged, and mere sight of it proved why that was.

"Inconnu, run!" Gandalf ordered, and unwilling as she was to leave him alone to face such a dark and evil creature she knew that he alone out of all of them stood the best chance and driving it away.

Soon she was with the others, watching as Gandalf faced down the Balrog.

"You cannot pass!" He shouted, and the Balrog stood there as the flames that were a part of it flared more menacingly.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire," Gandalf declared "Wielder of the flame of Arnor."

The grey wizard raised his sword and staff as the Balrog withdrew a massive blade of fire from nothingness.

"The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!"

The Balrog then sung its great blade, but was countered by the shielding magic of Gandalf's staff. It faded away and the Balrog roared once again, Aragorn and Inconnu both rushing forth to help Gandalf but stopping at the sight of the sheer power the Balrog displayed.

"Go back to the Shadow!" Gandalf ordered, but the demon challenged him by taking a single step onto the bridge.

This time the Balrog formed a whip of pure flame, cracking it in the air.

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf shouted, his words filled with power as he slammed the butt of this staff against the bridge.

A white light shined brightly around the wizard for a few moments, but it made the demon withdraw the step it had taken. Then it charged forward only for the bridge to collapse underneath it. The Balrog fell into the darkness below, and Gandalf took a few shallow breaths before turning to join the others.

The end of a whip made of fire wrapped around his ankle at that moment.

Gandalf was then dragged to the edge of the now broken bridge, grasping for a handhold. Frodo tried to run to the wizard but Boromir held him back.

"Gandalf!" The Hobbit cried out despairingly, trying to fight out of Boromir's iron hold.

There was no one to stop Inconnu however, and she dashed to the edge of the bridge and grabbed onto Gandalf with all her remaining strength. Her grey gaze met Gandalf's aged blue-grey one, and an understanding passed between them.

Inconnu wouldn't be able to save him, she wasn't strong enough on her own.

"Save him Inconnu," Gandalf whispered to her, pleaded her "bring him back into the light!"

Tears now streaming down her cheeks, Inconnu nodded.

"I will!"

"Fly you fools!" He then said louder so the others could hear, and then he slipped out of Inconnu's grasp and into the dark depths of Khazad-dûm.

"No!"

It was Frodo who had so mournfully cried out, now fighting harder against Boromir as the warrior hauled him away to the staircase.

"Aragorn! Inconnu!" He called out before he went up the next flight of stairs.

This prompted Inconnu into action, burying her grief in order to leave the bridge and run from the arrows that were now being fired upon them. She had reached Aragorn when a deep, searing pain pierced her right shoulder, causing her to stumble into the ranger.

He held her steady, glancing at her shoulder and seeing the crude arrow lodged there. They didn't have the time to get it out, so he helped her as they ran from the bridge and up the stairs where the exit to Moria lied.

Daylight flooded Inconnu's vision, blinding her momentarily as her eyes adjusted from the darkness of Khazad-dûm. Around them were rocks that were a part of the eastern base of the Misty Mountains, and beyond that the treeline of a forest. Inconnu took in a deep breath of clearer air, reveling in it.

_We escaped the Mines of Moria!_

She looked at the others, seeing how they fared and saw the grieving expressions they all wore. Her own grief returned in a sudden rush of fresh tears.

_We may have escaped, but not without loss._


	18. Imparting of Wisdom and Warning

_"We are not made wise by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility of our future." -George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

  _ **Dimrill Dale Hillside**_

Inconnu was careful to not disturb the wound in her shoulder, but even with that caution it still pained her with the slightest. The orc arrow was still buried deep, but there was had so far not been enough time to remove it in fear of the coming night and the goblin horde the company had left behind. It would take time and great care to remove a barbed arrow as crude as the one lodged in her.

The Fellowship was weary with both exhaustion and grief, the loss of Gandalf heavy on their minds. Inconnu had only briefly known the grey wizard but considered him a great friend and ally and was glad to have known him while his light still shined.

Aragorn led them onward, often rushing ahead to scout and waiting for them to catch up before doing so again. He would also throw the occasional glance Inconnu's way, checking the shaft and any signs of poison before keeping the company moving forward. Already they could see in the distance a soft, shimmering light. A great forest lied ahead of them, and Inconnu knew it to be Lothlórien. Like many other places in the world, Inconnu had not been here and had only seen it from afar.

Dictated by her wanderlust, she had spent nearly all of her life in the far reaches of the north where no Man, Elf, or Dwarf dared to tread. Places where monsters dwelt and all life, however little there was, was ruled by survival of the fittest. Those that adapted lived and only death awaited those who did not.

Inconnu sighed, though lightly as to not move her shoulder too much. She looked to where the forest awaited them, and Inconnu couldn't help but feel a deep hum of magic emanating from it.

_**The Edge of Lothlórien** _

From the first step into Lothlórien, Inconnu felt anxious though she could not determine as to why. She knew she had little to fear here, but the feeling would not leave her even with this knowledge. Still, Inconnu kept with the Fellowship as was able to admire the canopy of golden leaves, the contrast to the silvery-grey of their trunks, and the small and delicate yellow flowers that remained in bloom despite the current late mid-winter season. Legolas then spoke, talking of the forest as if he were returning home.

"Ah, Lothlórien. The fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of this land, for in autumn the leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers."

The awe of this forest was quite apparent within the company, and Legolas continued, only building it.

"And the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say."

However Gimli looked very nervous, showing what Inconnu hid. His eyes darted around constantly, as if expecting to be attacked at any given moment. Inconnu didn't feel like they would be attacked per say, but she couldn't really pinpoint the exact cause of her anxiety.

"Stay close, young Hobbits," Gimli said to them in a somewhat hushed tone "they say a great sorceress live in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell... And are never seen again!"

This caused Inconnu to pause momentarily in her stride. Could this be what was causing the deep feeling of trepidation within her? She had indeed heard the very same rumors, though could not confirm them as she had not ever been among the otherworldly trees of Lothlórien.

" _Inconnu..."_

She nearly whipped her head around to see who had spoken, but managed to only glance around with wariness. The voice had sounded like a woman without age, one who had seen much and could see substantially more.

" _...The Captain of Despair follows your steps. You have not tread carefully, Wanderer."_

Again, Inconnu tried to look for whoever had spoken, and again she failed to find the speaker. Her thoughts were broken with Gimli's next exclamation.

"Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

His words were immediately contradicted when several armed Elves appeared from the woods, the tips of their arrows glinting in the fading light of dusk as they were pointed at each member of the company.

Inconnu cursed silently, noting how she had been far too distracted by her thoughts and not being keen of her surroundings. Pain lanced through her shoulder again, the barbed arrow reminding her of its existence and she bit her lip to mask any sound she might have made.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

An Elven man, dressed the part of a Captain, stepped forward as he had spoke. Gimli looked very put out, but the Elven Captain seem not to very interested in the Dwarf. His gaze swept over the group, lingering on Legolas and Aragorn before landing on Inconnu. Blue eyes met grey, and his widened only a fraction before switching to look to his men and give the gesture to follow, and the company to follow as well.

Soon night fell upon the land properly, and Inconnu and the Fellowship stood upon a large platform. One of many that were built high in the golden canopy of the forest. The Elven Captain greeted Legolas first.

"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion." _Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil._

"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien." _Our Fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien._

 _Haldir? So that is his name,_ Inconnu mused. She refocused when Haldir greeted Aragorn next.

"A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen." _Oh, Aragorn of the Dúnedain, you are known to us._

"Haldir." Was Aragorn's simple reply, and when the Elven Captain made to greet Inconnu his voice held undertones of curiosity.

"Ile naa hae tullo' eska Huntress en' i' For." _You are far from home Huntress of the North._

Inconnu merely gave a faint nod in response, and it looked as if Haldir would have continued if Gimli had not spoken aloud with disdain in his tone.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can also understand!"

Haldir gave Gimli a half-hearted bored look, though a bit of amusement glinted in his eyes as he replied, "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days."

"And you know what this Dwarf says to that?"

Gimli looked very frustrated, anger seeping into his next words.

"Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!" _I spit on your grave!_

Aragorn grabbed Gimli's arm and his words were stern as he said, "That was not so courteous."

After a few moments of tense silence, Haldir waved over one of his men before looking to Inconnu once more.

"We'll care for your shoulder here. One of my men will lead you to where we care for our wounded."

Inconnu smiled softly in thanks and promptly followed the soldier who had been beckoned to guide her. However, before she was completely out of earshot she heard Haldir say to the Fellowship, "You bring great evil with you."

But a bad feeling rose with his next words.

"You can go no further."

_**Later** _

Inconnu carefully rolled her injured shoulder, lightly testing the amount of strain she could potentially put on it. The arrow had been removed with little difficulty despite its barbed tip, and the beginning signs of infection had promptly been seen to. No poison had coated the crudely made arrow, and so she was lucky in that regard.

Now she was being guided back to others, and when she looked upon them once again she saw the weariness and worry as they sat. Inconnu saw Aragorn arguing with Haldir, and Frodo particularly looked despondent. When he lifted his gaze to hers it was like he was expecting her to blame him for something.

Inconnu could guess with a fair amount of accuracy as to what he expected her to blame him for. She shook her head lightly and gave him a kind smile as she walked over to him, hoping to banish his dark thoughts. Frodo's expression did lighten, however little, and Inconnu knelt in front of him before asking,

"How are you holding up Frodo?"

"As well as I can... I miss him Inconnu. I-I can't believe that he's actually gone..."

Inconnu put a comforting hand on his shoulder, her next words firm in their resolve.

"I miss him too Frodo, as I found him a true friend to the very end. Gandalf's death was not in vain, and he would not wish for us to give up hope so easily. Often, it is hope that is left even when darkness seems to overwhelm all else in the world. It is hope that gives us the strength of will to perform such deeds they could be considered miracles. With hope, not even the greatest of evils can standfast."

Frodo's blue eyes shone with wonder and understanding, his mood noticeably lighter as he then asked, "You have hope that you can save the Witch-King, don't you?" and Inconnu nodded.

"Yes. I have hope that I can indeed bring him back into the light."

They shared a smile before Haldir approached them. The Elven Captain looked wary of Frodo, but did not voice it. Instead his words brought relief to the company.

"Very well. Here we will stay awhile, and come to the city of Galadhrim on the morrow."

_**Caras Galadhon** _

As they walked through the late afternoon sun, Haldir stopped them on top of a hill. Inconnu and the Fellowship stopped, when he spoke, his voice full of pride.

"Caras Galadon. The heart of Elvendom on earth. This is the city of Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

The next few hours were spent in relative silence, each traveler deep into their own thoughts as Haldir guided them up elegant stairs that wrapped around trunks of trees of great size. White lights shone everywhere, bringing a reassurance in the darkness of the night.

Inconnu was thoroughly impressed, glad to see such a wonderful sight. However, the anxiety remained rooted within her, reminding her of its presence when the Fellowship stepped onto a large platform. The lined up, facing a set of silvery-white stairs that led up to an archway.

It was then that an Elven pair descended the stairs, and they're mere presence commanded the attention of all present. The Elven man was dressed in the simple finery of a lord, his hair long and silver, and his features grave yet beautiful.

His partner was dressed in a long, white laced dressed, accenting her ageless beauty. Deep golden hair fell in long waves from her head, and she moved with what Inconnu could easily assume as unsurpassed grace. Names came to Inconnu's mind, able to recognize them by reputation and the power they radiated. Celeborn and Galadriel.

When the couple stood before the company, Celeborn looked hard at Aragorn before speaking.

"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone."

He glanced momentarily at each of the group before continuing with, "Eight there are here, yet nine there were that set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."

Inconnu immediately noted how the Elven Lord did not include her in his counting of the Fellowship. She hoped that it wasn't meant to insult, but more to the knowledge that she in fact was not an official member of this Fellowship. It was then that Galadriel spoke softly.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into Shadow."

Inconnu decided to force some recognition of her presence, replying to Galadriel, "He was taken by both Shadow and Flame. A Balrog of Morgoth." Heads turned to face Inconnu, though she had cast her eyes downward as to somewhat avoid their gazes. She continued, "We had delved into Moria needlessly, and the price of our foolishness was high."

Glancing to the side, Inconnu saw the bowed heads of her companions. Grief was still great within them all. She missed the next bit of the conversation, stray thoughts wandering through her head, wondering as to what to do next in this journey. It wasn't until Celeborn spoke that Inconnu refocused, raising her head to properly look at the others.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

Galadriel looked to Aragorn before speaking.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all... Yet hope remains while the company is true."

Her gaze switched to Sam.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil."

Now she glanced at Frodo.

"Tonight you will sleep in peace."

" _Welcome, Inconnu Naeril..."_

Inconnu's gaze snapped to Galadriel's, recognizing the sage tone from not so long ago.

" _...Soul Half to the Witch-King of Angmar."_

The company was then bidden to follow a servant back down to where they would rest for the night, and Inconnu just began to join the others when Galadriel's voice stopped her.

"Huntress, I would like to speak with you."

It was not a command, though not entirely a request either. Inconnu sighed softly and waited until the others had left, not facing Galadriel until she reassured Celeborn and he too left them. Silence was like another being in the room, nearly tangible in its presence. Grey eyes stared into those of light-blue, and Inconnu shifted slightly. Galadriel spoke calmly in the quiet.

"Come with me Inconnu, we shall talk in more comfortable surroundings."

Again, Inconnu complied. They walked through a side corridor and soon entered a small room structured like a gazebo. White lights lent their glow into the room, and Galadriel bid Inconnu to sit as she did. Inconnu was hesitant, but sat and awaited for Galadriel to start the conversation.

"You have traveled far Wanderer of the Mists. Far from your territory that lies to the far northern reaches of the Misty Mountains."

"This is not the first time I have made a journey south." Inconnu pointed out, and Galadriel nodded.

"Yes, to visit your mother's grave. You showed her great respect by doing so, even when your instincts demanded that you remain north and hunt the dark creatures that lurked in every shadow."

At this, Inconnu smiled faintly and commented, "Not in _every_ shadow, just most of them." Galadriel's fine features adopted a look of amusement, and Inconnu continued, "If that were true, then I would have been living a life of constant fighting and not of wandering."

"Very true," The Elven woman conceded "And now you have made the decision to accompany this Fellowship, something quite unlike you as your reputation would have others believe."

Inconnu barely raised an eyebrow in response.

"And certainly you are not 'others' as you have put it."

"I have seen many things Inconnu Naeril, events concerning not only yourself but of the Witch-King as well."

Inconnu shifted slightly in her seat, the anxiety rising up again. Still, she knew not the cause of this worry, but looking into Galadriel's eyes she had the feeling that the Elven woman knew of it. She did not have to say a word in question to gain an answer.

"It is not your anxiousness Wanderer, as you know well that you have nothing to fear from me. The feeling belongs to another, and he is closely bound to you."

Inconnu's eyes widened, easily catching onto her implication.

"His anxiousness..." She breathed softly "Why would Er-Murazor worry? What _could_ make him worry?"

Galadriel's smile was knowing as it was kind when she replied, "You already know why Inconnu. I believe he confessed it in his own way not too long ago."

This confused Inconnu, and she closed her eyes to think back to all her previous encounters with the Witch-King. It was several moments until she found something she believed best resembled a confession, and she whispered, "'I see no gain from using this weakness against you.'"

Galadriel gave a single nod.

"Not only were you able to placate him in Rivendell, but he in turn revealed a concern for your being when you delved into Khazad-dûm. Never has the Witch-King cared for any living soul, but neither has anyone dared to challenge him the way you have Inconnu."

Inconnu was silent, still minorly speechless over this revelation, and Galadriel continued.

"He has been following you since you freed his mind from Sauron's will, feeling a pull to you that he cannot ignore. For you he has displayed worry when you were trapped in Moria, and now he does so again while you stay here."

"Why would he be anxious that I am here? I have nothing to fear from this place." Inconnu said, better focused now.

The Lady of Light smiled as she replied, "You may not hold fear, but he does and he cannot so easily enter Lothlórien as he did Imladris. Here, you are further from his ironclad grasp."

Inconnu faintly nodded, acknowledging again the power this place held. She then asked, "I have never truly felt in danger around him. Wary, yes, but not truly afraid."

"Yes, but I feel that I must warn you of the path you currently tread. There are two ways your path can split: one leads toward a future of light filled with love and joy, and the other..." Galadriel's tone darkened "Ends in darkness, pain and suffering to those left."

"I know this," Inconnu's voice choked a little, barely noticeable "I know what would become of him if I fail to save him. The latter future you speak of is what I fear now, though not for myself."

"For him..." Galadriel whispered, seemingly in awe of the Half-Elven before her "You would give him everything in order to set him free, even though he has given little in return thus far. All the suffering, the pain, the loss you would take upon yourself just to spare him."

"Little has been returned, that is true, but," Inconnu then smiled a small, melancholy smile "I have seen more than enough to continue on this path, to save him and show him the world of light. Even at the cost of my own life, I would do this just to give him peace from the corruption that has trapped him for millennia."

A yawn escaped her then, and Galadriel bid a hidden servant to appear.

"Go now and rest Inconnu, as must we all in order to have the strength to face the coming events."

There was no argument from the Wanderer as she stood, politely bowing to Galadriel before departing with the servant and leaving the Lady of Light with much to think on. Sleep was much needed indeed, and once situated in the room given to her Inconnu fell into a deep sleep.

Unsuspecting of what her dreams would reveal to her.


	19. Chasing Fires and Cries

" _In wars past only homes burnt, but this time don't be surprised if even loneliness ignites. In wars past only bodies burnt, but this time don't be surprised if even shadows ignite." -Kamila Shamsie_

* * *

  _Inconnu whirled around herself, finding that she was in the thick of a forest. Old trees grew tall and twisted, a heavy presence lingering. There was more to this forest and her instincts warned her to not anger the trees, to not walk among them with any form of perceived threat._

_With great care in her steps Inconnu began to wander through the trees, her confidence growing the further she went without retaliation to her presence. She had no idea as to her destination, only the inkling that something important, something terrible, would happen in this forest._

_Flickering orange light in the distance caught her attention, and it only when she was but a few yards away that Inconnu realized she had moved. The flickering grew stronger, and Inconnu recognized the light to be fire. A fire that was growing larger as the seconds passed by. Soon she was at the very edges of the blaze, noting with great surprise that she did not feel the heat of the flames._

_The great trees were burning, dry wood snapping and large branches breaking off from far above the ground. Inconnu dodged such a branch as it fell, not willing to tempt fate by testing her apparent invulnerability. She could almost feel the pain of the forest as the fire raged, as it blackened what was once a variety of earthen browns and greens. This was a terrible sight indeed._

_It was then that a high-pitched screech, filled with sheer pain and fear, overwhelmed her ears. Inconnu nearly clutched at them, the sound of such cries almost too much to bear. Then it stopped, the crackling of the fire around her the only sound until it sounded again. Inconnu decided to see what was causing such screams and ran toward the sound, wary of the dangerous terrain that was her path. Deeper into the flames._

_She then stumbled upon a small clearing, only barely being able to called one. Here Inconnu was at the heart of the great fire, and she knew that this was where it started. In the center of the small area was a separate burning fire, more appropriately, a bonfire. The flames licked at strangely arranged branches, giving the appearance of a humanoid figure. As if made from the very trees of this forest._

_The screeches were coming from the bonfire, but not from the creature of wood. The limbs made of branches were still, unmoving as it burned. Inconnu lifted a hand as to better shield her eyes from the fires, and it was then that she saw the dark figure, trapped underneath the creature as it too burned._

No. Not it... Him.

_Inconnu's eyes widened in shock as she saw the longsword only a few feet away, recognizing the pommel. Her hands went to her mouth, in complete shock of the scene that was before her. She didn't know what to do, didn't know how to help him. Inconnu's mind was in turmoil, warring between utter shock and pure instinct._

" _Inconnu..."_

_Her instincts won out when the Witch-King reached out to her, his iron gauntlet outstretched as far as it could go. It was so very clear as to how much pain he was in, and Inconnu thought she would never see Er-Murazor emanating so much fear. The mere thought of the Witch-King being afraid of anything was a ridiculous notion, and yet here he was. Burning and very much afraid._

_The moments seemed to slow the closer Inconnu got to him, as if time did not wish for her to reach him. She defied it however, refusing to leave him alone in such a state, reaching for her. Then she was on her knees beside him, both hands grasping onto his gauntlet. Reason dictated that the iron it was made of should be hot from the flames, but to her it was cool to the touch._

" _Inconnu..." He again cried out, his voice much hoarser than it usually was._

_She leaned in closer and his hood tilted to the side, better to see her. His gauntlet gripped the hand underneath it, firm and unwilling to let it go._

" _I can't..."_

" _Can't what?" Inconnu whispered back, her cheeks already wetting from tears. A pause of words, the sounds of a raging fire._

" _It's all too confusing..."_

" _What is?"_

" _You...Myself..."_

_Inconnu's grey eyes widened and before she could ask him what he meant the Witch-King continued with a single word, his grip tightening harshly._

" _Us."_

_Inconnu was speechless, completely and utterly. So much so, that she didn't notice she was fading away until she no longer felt his grip on her hand. Desperately, she tried to regain a hold on it but each attempt ended in failure. Er-Murazor, too, tried to hold onto her hand only to have the same results. The moments seemed to speed up the more they tried, and this time Inconnu could not defy it._

_The last thing Inconnu saw was him reaching out to her again, the whisper of her name in the air before he let out an ear-splitting shriek as the raging flames continued to try and consume him._

* * *

 Inconnu awoke with quite the start, cold sweat upon her brow and running down the length of her spine. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, her mind working to accept what she had just experienced. Inconnu had never felt more afraid then at that moment, never had felt so tortured deep inside.

_I couldn't help him... Why, why couldn't I save him from the fire?_

She drew in a shuddering breath, slowly calming her racing heart. Eventually, she was able to properly inspect her thoughts in comparison to the terrible dream. Inconnu recognized it to be no ordinary dream, such as the two with Oromë and the one before with the Witch-King. She was more than certain that the dream was an actual experience, and that its events also were true. A cold dread seeped into her heart as she thought of the state Er-Murazor was in when she found him, and it hurt more with the knowledge that it actually happened.

In the next instant she swept her feet off the finely crafted bed and prepared to leave.

_**Later...** _

Inconnu glanced around her as she silently moved through the trees, making her way for the south-eastern edge of Lothlórien. She carried the gear she had taken from Sverundr when she had followed the Fellowship into the mines, needing the supplies that were left. She was already fairly close to the treeline, and it was here she decided to stop and summon her old friend as she set down the gear she carried.

She let out a short series of three whistles, the first very high and followed by two pitches of low, descending tones. Inconnu didn't have to wait too long.

She was always in awe each time Sverundr appeared after she summoned him to her. Full of muscle and grace that seemed impossible for a stallion of his size. Inconnu's features fell into a wry smile, remembering when Sverundr was a gangly colt and quite unaware of his size. Oh yes, a very different image for sure.

Sverundr nuzzled her shoulder when he reached her, happy to be next to her again. Inconnu chuckled and patted his neck.

"I missed you too big boy, and I get to say I told you so since we now meet again on the other side."

He snorted and pulled back enough to head butt her playfully, earning another laugh from Inconnu. After a few more minutes of reconciliation, Inconnu stored her gear within the saddlebags and was about to mount the saddle when a voice came from behind her.

"Leaving so soon Wanderer?"

Inconnu's head turned to face Galadriel, who had a wry smile upon her lips. Sighing faintly, Inconnu nodded and replied, "My hunt now takes a new direction, and so I cannot stay with the Fellowship."

"Do they know of this decision?"

"The possibility of this happening was spoken of before we departed from Imladris."

Galadriel responded with a slow nod, and with an elegant wave of her hand Haldir appeared from behind a small grouping of trees. In his arms were a variety of things by Inconnu's guess, as there were two bundles: one long and wrapped in a thick grey fabric, and the other green in color and more like a bag.

"We wish to present you with gifts that will aid in your long journey, Wanderer." Haldir said. "Items you would have received later along with the others of the Fellowship."

Inconnu caught onto his meaning, and was glad that the others would also be gifted with items that would help them as well. Galadriel took the item wrapped in the grey fabric from Haldir, indicating that it would be given to her after the green bag, which Haldir presented her with.

"Lembas, able to stay your hunger in the most dire of famines that might plague you."

_Lembas, or better known in the common tongue as 'Waybread.'_ Inconnu was somewhat familiar with the thin cakes of Elven bread, though had never consumed it before. As much as she wanted to try some now, she was wiser than that and would save it for when it was truly needed and no other food could be scavenged or hunted. After accepting it and storing it away, Galadriel approached Inconnu only to stop a mere few feet away.

Crystalline blue met sterling grey, and Galadriel did not speak until she had given the grey bundle to Inconnu.

"This gift is made of two items: a cloak comprised of the same materials as our own, though grey in color to better suit you, and inside it a gift from another."

Inconnu's eyes widened, remembering what Oromë told her about such a gift. With great care, she unwrapped the cloak and discovered a longsword. She swung the cloak over the saddle limply so she could better inspect the blade, and withdrawing it slightly from scabbard she saw it was not of Elven make. Inconnu then fully unsheathed it and watched how pale morning light danced along the metal.

"The blade was named _Ghost's Song_ , forged during the days when the Witch-Realm of Angmar terrorized the broken kingdom of Arnor. A Westernesse blade among the many forged to combat the creatures of Angmar, and to give the men of the north a fighting chance against the Witch-King himself."

Inconnu was impressed with the blade's balance, feeling natural in her grip as though it had always belonged there. Galadriel continued in a knowing tone.

"It's history is unique among its brethren, and it is not my place to tell you but another's. Ghost's Song will serve you well in the future days."

Inconnu sheathed the blade and gave a deep nod of understanding before securing it to the saddle and mounting. She waved to them a farewell, returned by both Galadriel and Haldir before Inconnu spurred Sverundr south, following her intuition as where her dream had taken place.

_**Fangorn Forest** _

Inconnu had dismounted some time ago, the only semblance of a path into the forest making it impossible for her to ride through. She led Sverundr along, dread building up within her though denial still had a voice in her mind. Sverundr kept calm however despite Inconnu's demeanor, and this brought a strong sense of security for her and a good measure of comfort.

It wasn't long until they discovered the charred trees, the ground littered with white and grey ash. Inconnu had to pull up her scarf in order to not breathe in the remains of the once great trees, and did so for Sverundr with a spare thin blanket. They tread deeper into the black scar of the forest, the anger and sorrow of the nature that survived almost tangible in the very air around them.

The dark atmosphere and feelings only grew the closer they came to center of the destruction, and when the did Inconnu nearly fell to her knees in the layers of ash. Before her was the very proof of her dream, evidence that was indisputable of its existence. There were the remains of the tree-like being and in the next moment Inconnu was kneeling beside it and checking underneath it. Inconnu released a soft sigh of relief, as the Witch-King wasn't still trapped.

_He must have had enough strength left to escape._

Standing again, Inconnu searched the small area for any other signs of him and where he might have gone. The thick layers of ash made it very difficult to tell exactly what had happened after the events of the dream. Eventually, Sverundr moves opposite to where Inconnu was searching and starts digging into the ash a little with a hoof. This gains her attention and she raised an eyebrow somewhat before dashing over to the large stallion.

On her knees again, she helped her old friend with the digging until the hilt of a dark blade showed through the white and grey. The digging intensified with this discovery until the entirety of the blade was revealed. Carefully, Inconnu picked it up and let her eyes go over each detail of the blade before resting on the pommel once again. It was the Witch-King's blade to be sure, and Inconnu realized that not only was he more than likely heavily injured, but also without his primary form of defense.

Vulnerable was not a word associated with the Witch-King, and yet at this time it seemed just a little more possible now.

Inconnu had to find him, she knew this with absolute certainty, but still had no real clue as to which direction he had went. It struck her then at that moment, and instinctively her head turned to face north, the direction of home. She didn't truly need physical evidence to find him. They were connected by their souls, and that would be the path Inconnu would follow.

She wrapped the Witch-King's blade in another spare blanket and strapped it across the saddlebags just behind the saddle itself before mounting and spurring Sverundr into action. Their path lied north, and Inconnu hoped that she would find him quickly.

_**Isengard** _

"Great Sauron, I bring you news of the Witch-King after searching so long for him."

"Iav huak been avhree monavhuk. Avhree monavhuk ro ukilence from avhe commandas ro mausan armoruk. Wiavh your nauk-ukourceuk, jiakhad expecavun lat avo gimb naj-ri ukoonas avhan avhiuk." _It has been three months. Three months of silence from the commander of my armies. With your resources, I had expected you to find him sooner than this._

"My apologies Dark One, but there had been no sign of him until now."

"Go par." _Go on._

A sly smirk.

"I will, but first I wish to know the secrets to building a greater creature for the war I am to wage against the Rohirrim."

A brief moment of heavy, dangerous silence.

"Lat dare avo avrausan agh avrick alnej Istari!" You dare to try and blackmail me wizard!

"Then you must not care too much about the lack of your most powerful Nazgûl."

"Jiak won'av forgeav avhiuk." _I won't forget this._

"I am sure of that. The previous night I heard the screams of a single creature, a sound that could only come from one of your Ringwraiths. In the distance I spotted a great fire within the Fangorn Forest, and knowing where you have sent the other eight it was obvious that your Witch-King was the one screeching."

The atmosphere darkened considerably.

"My spies returned to me only an hour ago with confirmation that it had been the Witch-King, the only thing remaining the charred remains of an Ent and the signs of quite the fight. What surprised me however was that not long after the arrival of my spies the Wanderer of the Mists also arrived, discovering the Witch-King's sword and then leaving rather quickly."

The very air now trembled with the dark, evil presence as this account continued.

"My conclusion is that the Witch-King has become prey to the Huntress of the North, and has been for some time."

"Um avhiuk iuk avrue, avhen nalkroro hiuk uklience?" _If this is true, then why his silence?_

"The Wanderer possesses many abilities, some more than likely delving into the mystical arts. She may hold knowledge that has made the Witch-King mute and deaf to you. Isolating him to provide an easier hunt."

"T'he jiak bebbefori avhaav avhe hunavas muukav becor avhe hunavun. Jiak bebefori lat know nalkren avhiuk saib come abouav, agh jiak ukhall imparav avo lat avhe knoelege par nalkren vao creaave avhe ushtar lat ukeek." _Then I believe that the hunter must become the hunted. I believe you know how this can come about, and I shall impart to you the knowledge on how to create the army you seek._

"Indeed, and my eternal thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now onto His Corrupted Heart, part two of this whole story!

**Author's Note:**

> Originaly posted on FanFiction.net
> 
> His Corrupted Mind started March of 2016 and finished September of 2016.
> 
> (Don't own LOTR, just my own inventions)


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